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LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Lord  Lisle’s  Daughter. 


A NOVEL. 


By  CHARLOTTE  M.  BRAEME, 

Author  of  “Dora  Thorne ‘ 'Madolin  s Lover  f EM. 


NEW  YORK: 

THE  F.  M.  LUPTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
No,  65  Duane  Street. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

An  artist  might  have  sketched  Deepdale  as  the  model 
and  type  of  an  English  village.  It  nestled  amid  the  Dev- 
onshire hills,  trying  to  hide  itself  under  the  spreading 
shade  of  tall  trees.  The  bonny  Deeplow  Woods  half  in- 
closed it;  smiling  corn  fields,  green  meadows,  and  pleasant 
gardens  gave  it  a quiet,  varied  charm.  The  deep,  broad 
stream,  the  Eiver  Floss,  ran  by  it;  far  off  in  the  distance 
lay  the  chain  of  blue  hills  that  sloped  down  to  the  sea. 

They  were  a simple,  kindly  race,  the  people  who  dwelt 
in  Deepdale — far  behind  the  rest  of  the  world  in  knowledge. 

The  weather  and  the  crops  were  their  two  chief  subjects 
of  conversation  and  anxiety.  Strangers  seldom  came  near 
the  village;  the  railway  had  not  broken  upon  its  tranquil 
calm.  There  were  many  such  quiet,  sunny  nooks  in  old 
England  years  ago,  but  they  are  rare  now. 

The  houses  were  scattered;  there  was  no  regular  street; 
a group  of  cottages  stood  under  the  tall  poplar-trees; 
another  in  the  midst  of  flower  gardens;  little  villas  were 
dotted  here  and  there,  half  hidden  by  luxuriant  foliage. 

Perhaps  the  most  picturesque  spot  in  Deepdale  was 
Meadow  Lane,  one  of  those  broad  green  lanes  only  seen 
in  England;  the  hedges  filled  with  wild  roses  and  eglantine; 
hawthorn-trees  perfuming  the  clear,  summer  air,  and  wild 
flowers  growing  in  rich  profusion. 

A little  cottage  stood  at  the  end  of  the  lane.  Claude 


6 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Lorraine  would  have  made  a grand  picture  of  it.  A little 
cottage,  with  bright  windows  encircled  by  guelder  roses  and 
woodbines;  and  the  white  jasmine  flowers  shone  like  pale 
stars.  A group  of  tall  chestnut-trees  stood  near,  and  a 
pretty  brook  ran  singing  by. 

On  this  evening,  when  our  story  opens,  a young  lady  ar- 
rived at  Deepdale.  She  came  from  some  neighboring  town, 
in  a shabby,  worn-out  fly,  bringing  with  her  a large  box 
and  a little  child.  The  driver,  obeying  the  lady’s  direc- 
tions, inquired  for  Mrs.  Rivers,  of  Rosemary  Cottage;  and 
some  of  the  village  people,  attracted  and  half  dazzled  by 
the  fly,  shabby  as  it  was,  showed  the  way  to  the  cottage  in 
Meadow  Lane.  But  there  were  places  where  the  brook 
widened,  and  the  carriage  could  not  pass.  The  lady  quick- 
ly solved  the  difficulty;  she  bade  the  driver  go  to  the  vil- 
lage inn,  and  send  the  box  on  to  the  cottage,  and  she  her- 
self took  the  child  in  her  arms. 

“ Tell  me,”  she  said,  gently,  “how  long  you  can  wait. 
Give  me  as  much  time  as  you  can.” 

“ I must  be  back  by  eleven  if  possible,”  he  replied. 

“ Then  1 will  be  at  the  inn  by  ten,”  she  said,  turning 
from  him,  and  clasping  the  child  in  her  arms.  She  walked 
quickly  down  the  green  lane;  then  she  sat  down  upon  the 
trunk  of  an  old  tree  and  gazed  around  her. 

The  child  in  the  lady’s  arms  stirred,  and  she  bent  over 
it,  kissing  the  little  face  with  a wistful  love  pitiful  to  sere; 
then  she  placed  the  child  down  for  a few  minutes,  stand- 
ing by  her  side. 

“ This  will  be  my  darling’s  home,”  she  said  to  herself; 
“ and  1 could  wish  for  no  fairer  one.  ” 

Pensively  she  gazed  upon  the  child;  then  she  rose,  took 
up  her  precious  treasure  and  walked  on  to  the  cottage,  and 
gently  rapped  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  a clean,  kind- 
ly looking  woman,  who  cried  out  with  delight  when  she 
saw  who  stood  there. 

“ I never  believed  it/’  she  said.  “ Can  it  really  be 


LORD  LISLE  ’S  DAUGHTER.  7 

you.  Miss  Margaret?  I thought  the  news  too  good  to  be 
true. ” 

6 ‘ It  is  quite  true,  nurse.  1 could  not  leave  my  darling 
in  any  care  but  yours.” 

Mrs.  Rivers  took  the  child  from  the  lady’s  arms,  and 
placed  a large  chair  for  her. 

“ I have  not  long  to  stay,”  said  the  fair  young  visitor; 
“ let  me  keep  baby  in  my  arms  while  I can.” 

64  That  you  shall,”  replied  Mrs.  Rivers,  gently;  “ it  is 
hard  enough  for  you.  Ah,  Miss  Margaret — 1 call  you 
4 miss  ’ still  — I can  not  remember  that  you  are  a mar- 
ried lady,  with  a baby  of  your  own.  It  is  not  long  since  I 
nursed  you.” 

“ Not  so  very  long,”  was  the  reply;  “ but  I have  lived 
many  lives  since  then.” 

As  the  lady  spoke  a look  of  pain  passed  over  her  lovely 
features. 

“All  my  other  troubles  seem  like  play,  nurse,”  she 
continued,  “ in  comparison  with  the  parting  from  my  little 
child.” 

A sudden  mist  of  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

“ Calm  yourself,”  said  the  nurse.  “ I will  make  you 
some  tea,  and  then  you  shall  tell  me  your  story.” 

While  Mrs.  Rivers  busied  herself  in  preparing  tea,  the 
lady  sat  with  the  child  in  her  arms.  She  laid  her  fair 
young  face  on  the  little  golden  head,  murmuring  sweet 
words  of  love  never  forgotten  by  the  one  who  heard  them. 

The  western  sunbeams  came  in  at  the  open  window; 
but  they  brought  no  message  of  hope  for  her,  whose  heart 
was  sad  even  unto  death. 

She  tried  to  drink  the  tea  kind  hands  brought  her;  but 
the  homely  cakes,  the  golden  honey,  and  ripe  fruit,  Mrs. 
Rivers  offered  her  in  vain. 

“ Now,  my  dear,”  said  the  nurse,  when  the  simple 
meal  ended,  “ come  out  into  the  garden.  You  shall  sit 
under  the  laburnum-tree  while  you  tell  me  all  about  it— 


LORD  LISLEyS  DAUGHTER. 


where  your  husband  has  gone — why  you  are  going — what 
is  the  mystery.  Tell  me,  for  you  know  you  can  trust 
me. v 

As  she  spoke  the  nurse  placed  a chair  outside  the  porch, 
and  then  seated  herself  by  the  lady’s  side;  and  the  child, 
as  though  knowing  how  soon  those  tender  arms  must  loose 
their  hold,  lay  silent  and  still. 

“ I have  not  much  to  tell,”  the  lady  began.  “You 
left  my  father’s  house  when  he  failed;  he  did  not  live  long 
after  that.  My  mother  took  me  to  London  and  put  me 
to  school  there.  She  died  when  I reached  my  fifteenth 
year,  and  I was  left  quite  alone.  I wrote  to  you  sometimes; 
but  with  that  one  exception  there  was  no  human  being  who 
took  any  interest  in  me.  My  father’s  friends,  who  courted 
me  when  he  was  rich,  forgot  my  existence  even. 

“Just  before  my  mother’s  death  she  placed  me  as  gover- 
ness-pupil in  a school  near  London.  In  return  for  the 
lessons  I gave  I was  taught  many  accomplishments.  In 
my  nineteenth  year  1 left  there  to  take  my  first  situation  as 
governess — it  was  considered  a very  good  one.  I had  the 
charge  of  Colonel  Seaton’s  two  little  children,  who  reside 
at  Hurst  Hall,  in  Norfolk. 

“ I was  happy  there;  the  colonel  and  Mrs.  Seaton  were 
very  kind  to  me.  Ah,  nurse!  I am  trying  to  tell  you  niy 
story;  but  how  can  I?  I can  not  paint  the  glorious  col- 
ors of  this  evening  sky,  I can  not  put  to  music  the  song 
of  the  bird,  nor  can  I describe  the  change  that  came  over 
my  life  when  he  who  is  now  my  husband  began  to  love  me. 

“ I was  but  a child  when  my  father  failed  and  died. 
After  that  my  life  seemed  one  long,  dull,  gray-colored 
dream.  Of  the  pleasures,  the  innocent  happiness  of  young 
girls,  1 knew  nothing.  I had  never  even  cared  whether 
my  face  were  fair  or  not;  but  one  evening — ah,  me!  how 
vividly  that  scene  returns — one  evening  1 had  done  some- 
thing that  did  not  please  Mrs.  Seaton,  and  she  spoke  angrily 
to  me.  When  the  children  had  gone  to  bed,  and  my  time 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


§ 


was  my  own,  I went  out  into  the  garden.  I had  been 
asked  to  train  some  choice  rose-trees,  and  as  I bent  over 
the  roses  the  tears  fell  from  my  eyes  upon  the  flowers. 

“ Not  tears  such  as  I shed  now,  full  of  bitterness,  but 
hopeless  tears  that  had  in  them  no  aching  sorrow — nothing 
but  a desolate  weariness.  Suddenly,  standing  before  me, 
I saw  a gentleman — p,  young  and  handsome  man.  He 
spoke  to  me,  saying  he  had  come  some  long  distance  to  see 
Colonel  Seaton. 

“ I told  him  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Seaton  would  both  be  in 
at  eight  o’clock,  and  if  he  particularly  wished  to  see  them, 
he  had  better  wait,  or  call  again.  He  decided  upon  wait- 
ing. Then  he  looked  at  me,  nurse,  with  such  kind,  grave 
eyes,  and  asked  me  if  I were  in  trouble,  that  I had  been 
weeping  so  bitterly. 

6i  6 1 had  no  trouble/  1 replied,  6 but  I was  tired  of  my 
life. ’ 

“ He  stood  and  talked  to  me,  saying  such  brave,  noble 
words  I can  never  forget  them.  And  as  he  spoke  the 
sun  seemed  to  shine  more  brightly,  the  flowers  gave  forth  a 
sweeter  fragrance,  his  voice  made  music  in_my  heart — 
music  that  has  never  died  out  since.  FromShat  hour 
my  life  changed;  it  was  no  longer  gray  and  dull.  1 lived 
in  a rose-colored  dream — a golden  light  had  fallen  over  me 
and  dazzled  my  eyes. 

“ Nurse,  I can  not  tell  you  my  husband’s  name.  I shall 
keep  no  secret  from  you  but  that.  I promised  him,  and  I 
must  keep  my  word.” 

A look  of  great  anxiety  came  over  Mrs.  Rivers’s  face, 
but  she  made  no  comment. 

“ Captain  Arthur — I may  call  him  that-— remained  at 
Hurst  Hall  for  some  weeks.  He  told  me  he  loved  me, 
and  I — oh,  dear  Heaven ! what  had  I done  that  such  happi- 
ness should  be  mine? — he  asked  me  to  be  his  wife;  but 
our  marriage  was  to  be  kept  quite  secret.  I will  tell  you 
why.  My  husband,  like  myself,  has  no  parents.  They 


10 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


died  when  he  was  quite  a child,  and  he  was  adopted  by  an 
uncle,  who  educated  him,  bought  his  commission,  and 
promised  to  look  well  to  his  future  prospects.  I must  not 
tell  you  his  uncle’s  name  either,  nurse,  England  knows  it 
well.  He  is  a nobleman  of  high  birth,  and  still  higher  re- 
pute; he  has  two  sons;  the  eldest,  of  course,  will  succeed 
him;  the  youngest  is  in  the  royal  navy.  This  uncle  has 
always  been  kind,  with  this  one  exception — he  would  not 
listen  to  the  idea  of  any  marriage.  Captain  Arthur  must 
wait,  he  said;  and,  as  he  had  no  money  himself,  he  must 
marry  an  heiress;  and  threatened  that  if  thwarted  in  this 
respect  he  should  withdraw  all  support  and  friendship  from 
him. 

“ So  our  marriage  was  a private  one.  I left  my  situa- 
tion  one  fine  morning  in  June,  and  drove  straight  to  a 
church — one  of  the  largest  and  oldest  in  London.  Captain 
Arthur  met  me  there;  we  were  married,  and  then  he  took 
me  home.  Our  home; was  a pretty  villa  among  the  High- 
gate  Hills.  As  much  happiness  fell  to  my  share  in  that 
one  short  year  as  some  people  enjoy  in  a life-time.  Our 
secret  was  never  discovered.  1 was  known  as  Mrs.  Howard 
—my  mother’s  maiden  name.  At  the  year’s  end  just 
after  my  little  child  was  born,  my  husband’s  regiment  was 
ordered  to  India.  The  doctor  forbid  me  going  with  him — 
and  we  parted.  It  was  arranged  that  I should  join  him 
when  baby  would  be  strong  enough  and  old  enough  to  stand 
the  voyage.  But  they  tell  me,  nurse,  that  she  would  not 
live  there,  where  the  sun  scorches  and  burns.  I should  not 
leave  her  yet;  but  my  husband  is  very  ill.  The  last  three 
mails  have  brought  me  sad  news  from  him;  he  is  very  ill, 
"and  pines  for  me.  What  can  1 do?  My  heart  is  torn  be- 
tween my  husband  and  my  child.  The  doctor,  who  is  my 
old  friend,  says  she  would  die  before  she  had  been  in 
India  a week.  My  Arthur  may  die,  unless  I can  go  to 
nurse  him;  and  1 thought  of  many  plans,  but  there  is  no 
one  to  whom  1 can  trust  my  child  but  you,  my  faithful 


LOUD  LISLE’S  DAUC4HTER. 


11 


friend.  I have  no  relations  in  the  world,  and  in  my  sor- 
row I have  sought  you.  I leave  England  to-morrow. 
Will  you  take  charge  of  my  child  for  three  years?  1 
will  reward  you  handsomely  at  the  end  of  that  time,  when 
I shall  return  and  make  some  further  arrangements. 
What  do  you  say,  nurse?  Will  you  undertake  the  trust?” 


CHAPTER  II. 


Thebe  was  a moment  of  unbroken  silence  when  the  lady 
ceased  speaking,  and  the  woman  by  her  side  answered 
gravely: 

44  1 accept  the  charge,  my  dear.  I will  take  care  of 
your  child  as  though  she  were  my  own.  God  bless  and 
preserve  you.  Miss  Margaret!  I hope  Captain  Arthur 
is  good  and  true?” 

44  Good?”  said  the  clear  voice.  44 1 have  never  seen  any 
one  like  him,  nurse!  He  is  kind,  tender,  and  loving. 
One  word  from  him  means  more  than  the  vow  of  ano'ffier. 
He  is  the  soul  of  honor  and  truth.”  The  pale,  sweet  face 
brightened  as  she  spoke.  44  You,  too,  have  a little  daugh- 
ter,” she  continued.  44  Where  is  she?  Will  you  let  me  see 
her?” 

44 1 have  a pretty  child,”  said  Mrs.  Rivers,  44  and.  Miss 
Margaret,  1 named  her  after  you,  but  we  call  her  4 Rita.’ 
My  poor  husband  used  to  say  Margaret  was  too  long  for 
every-day  use.  She  is  gone  to  one  of  my  neighbors.  1 will 
fetch  her.” 

In  a few  minutes  the  woman  returned,  leading  by  the 
hand  a beautiful  child  of  four  years  old — a child  Murillo 
would  have  been  charmed  with — dark  in  features  and 
eyes,  with  black,  shining  hair  clustering  in  thick  weaves 
upon  her  pretty  shoulders;  lips  as  ripe  and  red  as  cherries, 
and  little  white  teeth  that  gleamed  like  pearls. 

The  lady  cried  out  in  admiration  when  she  saw  her,  and 
a look  of  gratified  vanity  stole  over  the  lovely  childish  face 


12 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


“Ah!”  said  the  nurse,  “my  little  Rita  is  very  pretty, 
but  I look  upon  beauty  as  a 6 fatal  dower/  What  has  it 
done  for  you.  Miss  Margaret,  my  dear? — and  there  never 
was  a sweeter  face  than  yours.  Your  little  one  is  not  like 
you.” 

“ No,”  replied  the  lady.  “ My  hair  and  eyes  are  dark; 
her  little  curls  are  like  pale  gold;  her  eyes  are  blue  as  a sum- 
mer sky.  I do  not  know  whether  others  would  form  the 
same  opinion  as  I,  but  to  me  she  has  an  angel’s  face.” 

She  then  raised  her  own  child  in  her  arms.  The  little 
girl  was-  nearly  three  years  old,  and  a greater  contrast  to 
the  dark-featured  Rita  could  not  have  been  found.  She  was 
small,  but  every  little  limb  was  most  exquisitely  shaped. 
The  head  was  one  that  Raphael  would  have  sketched  for  a 
child-angel,  running  over  with  golden  curls;  a fair,  spirit- 
ual face,  bearing  even  then  an  impress  of  high-bred  re- 
finement; delicate  white  arms  and  hands,  fair  as  a lily,  and 
exquisitely  shaped. 

As  the  lady  held  the  child  she  kissed  the  sweet  face  with 
a passionate  love  pitiful  to  see. 

“We  are  three  Margarets,”  she  said,  with  a smile. 
“ You  must  call  my  darling  * Daisy,’  nurse — she  looks  like 
a pretty  pale  flower — 4 Daisy  Howard;’  and  some  time  I 
will  surprise  her  by  giving  her  a name  far  prettier  than 
that — her  own.  Rita,  you  will  be  kind  to  Daisy,  will  you 
not?” 

The  two  children  played  upon  the  grass  together,  while 
the  lady  in  rapid,  nervous  words  continued  her  instruc- 
tions. 

“ I have  brought  you  forty  pounds,  nurse,”  she  said. 
“ As  soon  as  I reach  India  I will  send  you  mom.  Spare  no 
expense  over  my  child.  Let  her  be  daintily  dressed  and 
cared  for.  I have  had  a portrait  takei^  of  her — three,  in 
fact.  One  is  for  her  papa,  one  for  myaelf,  and  to-night, 
or  to-morrow,  before  leaving,  1 will  send  you  the  other.” 

There  was  a sharp  ring  of  pain  in  the  lady’s  voice,  as 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER.  13 

she  continued:  “ I have  a locket  for  her.  It  contains  her 
father's  hair  and  mine,  with* our  initials — M.  and  A. — 
intwined.  I shall  leave  her  this  ring.  My  husband  gave 
it  to  me  the  night  before  he  went.  It  is  of  rare  pearls; 
and  the  motto  inside  it  says,  6 No  love  out  of  this  ring.' 
And  oh,  nurse,"  she  continued,  bursting  into  a wild  pas- 
sion of  weeping,  “ take  care  of  her!  Do  not  let  her  forget 
me.  Morning  and  night  let  her  fold  her  little  hands  and 
pray  for  the  loving  mother  so  far  away." 

“ That  she  shall  do,"  said  the  nurse,  gently. 

“ Three  years  will  soon  pass,"  said  the  sad  young 
mother.  “ But  I know  now  what  people  suffer  when" they 
come  to  die.  Death  can  hold  no  deeper  sorrow  than  this." 

“You  will  see  her  again,"  said  Mrs.  Bivers,  gently, 
“ and  she  will  soon  learn  to  be  happy." 

“Happy  without  me!"  sighed  the  lady.  “But  time 
presses.  Let  me  have  her  to  myself,  nurse,  for  one  half 
hour.  I must  leave  you  before  ten." 

She  quitted  the  pretty,  fragrant  garden  where  her  feet 
were  never  more  to  tread,  and  followed  the  nurse  into  a 
little  bedroom.  A white  bed  with  white  hangings  stood 
there,  and  the  lady  knelt  by  it,  holding  the  child  in  her 
arms. 

“ Take  care  of  her,  ye  heavenly  guardians!"  she  cried. 
“ It  rends  my  heart  to  leave  her.  My  darling,"  she  con- 
tinued, raising  the  little  sweet  face  to  her  own,  “ shall  you 
forget  me?  Let  my  kisses  lie  warm  on  your  lips.  Look  at 
me.  Let  my  face  sink  into  your  heart.  I shall  come  to 
you  in  your  dreams.  In  my  dreams  1 shall  feel  the  clasp 
of  your  tender  hands — the  warm  breath  upon  my  cheek.  I 
shall  hear  by  day  and  by  night  the  music  of  your  pretty 
voice  and  the  sound  of  your  footsteps.  My  heart  stays 
with  you.  I call  upon  Heaven  to  guard  my  little  child 
while  I am  away!" 

Her  warm  tears  rained  upon  the  wee  golden  head,  and 
then  she  began  to  murmur  sweet,  caressing  words,  such 


14 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


as  only  loving  mothers  use.  The  child's  eyes  closed,  and 
she  laid  it  down  upon  the  white  bed. 

J ust  then  the  nurse  came  once  more  to  the  door. 

i 6 It  is  growing  late,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

“ My  baby  is  asleep,"  replied  the  lady;  “ 1 will  leave 
her  now." 

She  bent  over  the  little  face,  and  for  the  last  time 
pressed  her  quivering  lips  fervently  upon  it. 

“ Good-bye,  my  darling!  good-bye,  my  pretty  little 
child!"  she  moaned,  as  she  quitted  the  room.  “ Do  not 
speak  to  me,  nurse;  the  bitterness  of  death  is  upon  me 
— my  heart  is  breaking!" 

With  quiet,  womanly  patience  Mrs.  Rivers  stood  until 
the  storm  of  weeping  passed  over  and  the  pale,  wild  face 
grew  still.  They  spoke  no  word  while  the  elder  woman 
wrapped  the  thin  shawl  round  the  childish  figure. 

“ Shall  I go  with  you,  my  dear,  to  the  inn?"  she  asked, 
gently. 

“ No;  do  not  leave  the  children,"  replied  the  lady; 
“ I shall  be  better  alone." 

She  bent  her  head  on  the  nurse's  shoulder,  then  kissed 
her  face  with  lips  so  white  and  cold  they  startled  her  old 
friend.  She  said  nothing;  her  sorrow  was  too  deep  for 
words. 

“ Tell  me  what  ship  you  sail  in?"  asked  Mrs.  Rivers. 
“ Our  doctor  takes  the  papers,  and  he  will  know  when 
it  reaches  India. " 

“It  is  called  the  ‘Ocean  Queen,' " replied  the  lady; 
“ it  sails  to-morrow.  1 shall  write  to  you  by  every  mail, 
nurse,  and  you  must  do  the  same  to  me;  and  in  three 
years'  time,  should  Providence  will  it,  I shall  return,  and 
she  will  not  have  forgotten  me." 

“ She  will  not  forget  you,  my  dear;  she  will  see  your 
face  every  night  in  her  dreams,"  said  Mrs.  Rivers.  “ God 
speed  you  and  send  you  back  to  us  in  safety." 

The  lady  lingered  for  a few  minutes  near  the  cottage 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


15 


door,  longing  to  look  once  more  at  the  sleeping  child;  but 
as  she  stood,  the  church  clock  chimed  the  hour  of  ten,  and 
she  turned  with  rapid  steps  to  walk  down  the  lane.  She 
could  weep  alone  there,  and  call  her  baby's  name.  There 
was  no  more  need  to  repress  the  bitter  sorrow — the  sighs 
and  tears  that  could  not  be  controlled. 

The  last  memory  that  lived  with  the  sad  young  mother 
was  of  the  starlit  sky  and  the  fragrant  green  lane.  She 
walked  on  rapidly;  and  having  reached  the  little  inn,  where 
the  carriage  was  waiting  for  her,  she  immediately  took  her 
departure. 

On  the  following  day  the  postman  brought  a little  packet 
to  Bosemary  Cottage.  Mrs.  Eivers  opened  it,  and  cried 
out  with  delight  at  the  pretty  picture  it  contained.  46  Daisy's 
portrait,"  was  written  on  it;  44  sent  by  her  mother,  June 
16th,  18 — The  picture  of  a sweetly  pretty  little  face 
with  blue  eyes  and  a beautiful  head  running  over  with 
golden  curls.  There  was  a long  letter  containing  many 
directions,  one  of  which  was  that  the  golden  curls  should 
not  be  cut,  but  should  be  allowed  to  grow. 

Mrs.  Eivers  took  the  little  portrait,  and,  reaching  the 
Bible  from  the  shelf,  placed  .it  there  with  the  letter. 
Nothing  warned  her,  as  she  did  so,  that  by  this  simple  act 
she  was  in  some  measure  shaping  the  destiny  of  three  lives. 
Both  letter  and  picture  lay  there  for  many  years;  they 
were  not  seen  again  until  the  night  when  the  fate  of  Daisy 
and  Eita  trembled  in  the  balance. 

It  is  a strange  story,  but  one  hears  of  stranger  every 
day.  Sixteen  years  ago,  Margaret  Howard,  as  she  called 
herself,  was  the  petted,  indulged  heiress  of  Stephen  Arle, 
a rich  merchant,  who  lived  in  one  of  the  southern  counties 
of  England.  Susan  Eivers  was  her  nurse,  and  very  dearly 
did  she  love  the  pretty  child  of  whom  she  had  charge. 

During  all  these  years  Susan  Eivers  never  lost  sight  of 
her  mistress  and  little  Margaret.!  She  went  occasionally 
to  see  them,  and  was  not  happy  or  contented  unless  she 


16 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


heard,  at  stated  times,  from  them.  But  Susan  married 
soon  after  Mrs.  Arle  died,  and  went  away  to  Deepdale. 
She  married  her  cousin,  a handsome,  dark-eyed  sailor, 
who  had  loved  her  for  many  years. 

Margaret  wrote  to  tell  her  old  nurse  she  was  married, 
and  again  when  her  baby  was  born;  but  Susan  Rifers  had 
cares  and  sorrows  of  her  own.  Her  husband  died,  and  she 
mourned  long  for  him.  He  left  a little  fortune  behind  him 
— just  sufficient  to  keep  his  wife  and  child  in  comfort. 

When  the  nurse  heard  again  from  Margaret,  it  was  to  ask 
if  she  would  take  charge  of  her  child,  the  result  of  which 
has  been  detailed. 

When  Captain  Arthur’s  wife  set  sail  in  the  “ Ocean 
Queen, 99  no  one  in  the  world  knew  to  whom  she  had  con- 
fided her  little  daughter  except  Mrs.  Markham,  a widow, 
who  lived  as  servant  in  her  house.  Mrs.  Markham  was 
sorry  to  leave  the  gentle  young  mistress  who  had  been 
so  kind  to  her;  but  she  was  going  to  join  her  brother  in 
America.  She  left  England  the  day  after  the  44  Ocean 
Queen  99  sailed  for  India.  The  tragic  story  of  Lord  Lisle’s 
daughter  turned  upon  this  simple  incident.  Had  Mrs. 
Markham  remained  in  England  it  would  never  have  been 
written. 

The  captain’s  young  wife  thought  there  would  be  plenty 
of  time  when  she  reached  India  for  telling  her  husband  all 
about  Nurse  Rivers  and  the  pretty  home  at  Deepdale  where 
she  had  left  her  little  child. 

The  sea  holds  many  secrets;  one  of  them  is  how  the 
64  Ocean  Queen  ” was  lost.  It  sailed  from  England  with 
more  than  two  hundred  souls  on  board  and  a valuable 
cargo.  It  was  wrecked  in  the  vast  Pacific  Ocean — no  one 
knew  where  or  how.  The  good  ship  4 4 Trident 99  picked 
up  a board  still  bearing  the  proud  name  of  44  Ocean 
Queen;”  but  the  secret  of  the  mighty  deep  was  never 
told.  None  knew  what  cruel  storms  and  driving  winds 


# LORD  LISLE’S  LAUGHTER.  17 

had  sent  the  vessel  to  its  ruin.  No  one  heard  the  agonized 
cries  for  help  that  died  on  the  vast,  solitary  ocean. 

One  of  the  last  who  perished  was  a lady  with  a sweet,  sad 
face  turned  in  mute  supplication  to  the  darkling  sky;  one 
whose  last  memory  was  of  a brave  countenance  she  was 
never  more  to  see;  of  a childish  voice  she  was  never  more 
to  hear;  of  a little  golden  head  never  more  to  be  pillowed  on 
her  breast;  of  a sunny  garden  where  so  lately  she  had  sat 
with  the  child  in  her  arms;  of  the  fragrant  green-  lane 
and  the  starlit  night  when  she  had  wept  aloud  for  the  little 
one  who  was  never  to  call  her  mother  again. 

It  was  long  before  the  loss  of  the  “ Ocean  Queen ” 
was  known  in  England  or  in  India.  To  Captain  Arthur 
Wyverne,  lying  ill  under  the  burning  sun,  longing  for  the 
wife  whose  presence  would  bring  him  new  life,  it  proved 
almost  a death-blow.  But  sorrow  and  despair  were  un- 
availing now.  The  sea  kept  its  own  secret;  the  wind  and 
waves  chanted  a requiem  over  those  who  had  perished  with 
the  ill-fated  vessel. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

The  news  reached  Deepdale  at  last.  The  day  came 
when  the  good  nurse’s  friend,  the  doctor,  called  upon 
her  and  showed  her  the  paragraph  in  the  paper  that  told 
how  the  46  Ocean  Queen  ” was  lost,  and  in  what  latitude  the 
“Trident”  found  some  portion  of  the  wreck  floating  on 
the  ocean. 

It  seemed  incredible  to  Mrs.  Eivers  that  one  whom  she 
had  tenderly  nursed  and  loved  should  have  met  with  so 
tragic  a fate;  that  the  bright,  hopeful  life  should  end  in 
the  spring-tide  of  beauty.  She  took  little  Daisy  in  her 
a^ms,  and  promised  she  would  take  her  mother’s  place, 
and  the  little  one  smiled  at  her  kisses  and  tears,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  loss  no  earthly  love  could  ever  repair. 


18 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Months  rolled  on  and  no  tidings  came  to  Mrs.  Bivers. 
No  one  wrote  about  the  child;  no  one  claimed  it.  From 
over  the  Indian  seas  there  came  no  anxious  word  from 
an  anxious  father.  Months  became  years,  and  the  silence 
was  still  unbroken.  She  could  not  write  to  Daisy’s  father, 
for  she  knew  nothing  of  his  name  or  address.  At  length 
Mrs.  Bivers  felt  sure  that  one  of  the  two  things  had  hap- 
pened. Either  the  marriage  had  not  been  a legal  one,  and 
the  captain  neither  wished  nor  intended  to  claim  his  child, 
or  he  was  dead,  and  no  one  else  knew  of  its  existence. 

When  two  years  had  passed  away,  the  good  widow  gave 
up  all  thoughts  of  hearing  from  any  one,  or  of  her  having 
to  give  up  the  child  she  loved  dearly  as  her  own.  She 
never  spoke  to  little  Daisy  of  the  sad  young  mother  who 
had  brought  her  to  Deepdale.  She  never  named  the  brave 
soldier-father  far  away  under  the  hot  Indian  skies.  Daisy, 
who  never  forgot  the  word,  called  the  nurse  “ mamma,” 
and  was  brought  up  as  one  of  Susan  Bivers’s  own  children. 
At  times  she  asked  herself  was  this  silence  wise,  and  om 
look  at  the  child’s  happy  face  convinced  her  it  was  so. 
Why  disturb  the  sweet,  happy  content  by  speaking  of  hopes 
and  dreams  that  might  never  be  realized?  Daisy  was 
happy,  loving  Mrs.  Bives  as  her  mother  and  the  beautiful, 
vivacious  Bita  as  her  sister. 

So  Daisy  grew — all  unconscious  of  her  own  story.  They 
lived  in  the  little  cottage  at  Deepciale  until  Daisy  was 
seven  years  old.  Then  some  little  accession  of  fortune 
came  to  the  widow.  An  old  uncle  died,  leaving  her  a 
small  house  and  a few  hundred  pounds;  and  they  left 
Deepdale  to  go  to  Queen’s  Lynne,  on  the  Norfolk  coast, 
where  the  property  was  situated. 

It  was  a great  change  from  the  sunny  village  nestling  in 
the  Devonshire  hills  to  the  bleak,  bare  coast  and  the  deep, 
surging  sea.  The  children  disliked  it  at  first;  they  missed 
the  fragrant  garden,  the  green  meadows,  and  fair  flowers. 
But  the  sea-shore  had  its  charms — the  long,  yellow  sands 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER.  19 

— the  wonder  of  shell  and  weed — the  restless  wares  that 
rolled  in  and  out! 

There  was  another  great  advantage  that  Mrs.  Hirers 
had  not  overlooked.  At  Queen's  Lynne  there  were  schools, 
where,  at  a moderate  rate,  it  was  possible  to  procure  a 
really  good  and  sound  education  for  her  children.  She 
wished  them  both  to  be  well  educated  and  lady-like. 
Whatever  might  be  Daisy's  future,  she  ought  to  receive 
the  best  training  she  could  afford  her;  then,  if  ever  she 
were  claimed  by  those  who  had  a right  to  her,  she  could 
take  her  place  among  them  without  shame.  As  for  Eita, 
she  gave  promise  of  such  magnificent  beauty  that  her 
mother  began  to  form  ambitious  hopes  and  plans  for 
her. 

Mrs.  Eivers  had  been  for  years  at  a good  school  herself, 
where  she  had  received  a plain,  sensible  education.  She 
spoke  well  and  grammatically.  Quick  to  learn,  she  had 
caught  up  the  refined  tone  and  accent  of  her  mistress. 
Listening  to  Eita  and  Daisy,  one  felt  sure  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  speak  with  intelligent  people.  There  was 
nothing  broad  or  provincial  in  their  accent.  Both  were 
gifted  with  musical  voices — Eita's,  rich,  clear,  and  ringing; 
Daisy's,  sweet  as  the  murmur  of  the  summer  wind. 

The  house  left  to  Mrs.  Eivers  was  known  as  Eooks' 
Nest;  so  called  from  the  fact  that  near  the  cottage  stood  a 
fine  group  of  trees  wherein  the  rooks  for  many  long  years 
had  built  their  nests.  The  new  tenant  was  looked  upon  as 
a most  respectable  woman — not  admissible  among  “ the 
gentry  " of  Queen's  Lynne,  but  certainly  much  superior 
to  the  “ poorer  class."  The  widow  had  quite  enough  to  do 
in  managing  her  household;  it  was  sometimes  hard  work 
to  pay  her  way  and  provide  all  that  was  wanted  for  the  two 
young  girls. 

The  years  passed  over,  and  no  word  ever  came  of  little 
Daisy's  friends.  The  two  girls  went  to  school;  they  were 
both  quick,  and  learned  rapidly;  but  there  was  a great  dif« 


20 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


ference  in  their  motives.  Daisy  loved  study  for  its  own 
sake.  Eita  looked  upon  it  as  a means  to  an  end. 

They  did  not  resemble  each  other  in  any  way,  these  two 
who  believed  themselves  to  be  sisters.-  In  describing  Eita 
people  always  called  her  “beautiful;”  in  speaking  of 
Daisy  one  invariably  characterized  her  as  “sweet.”  She 
had  a fair,  spiritual  face,  with  calm,  clear  brows,  and  ten- 
der violet  eyes  full  of  truth  and  purity;  her  pure,  sensitive 
lips  had  a smile  sweet  as  a sunbeam;  her  golden  hair 
rippled  over  white  dimpled  shoulders;  there  was  an  air  of 
graceful,  high-bred  refinement  about  her  that  did  not  be- 
long to  the  more  beautiful  Eita. 

There  was  nothing  worldly  in  Daisy.  She  loved  her 
adopted  mother,  quite  believing  she  was  her  own.  She 
was  proud  of  her  brilliant  sister,  and  perfectly  satisfied 
with  her  station  of  life.  She  had  no  longing  for  rich  dresses 
and  rare  jewels;  she  wished  for  books  and  music.  She 
never  felt  jealous  or  envious  when  the  “ Lynne  Gazette  ” 
told  of  gay  balls  and  fetes  in  which  she  had  no  share. 
The  world,  as  yet,  had  not  touched  her — its  warm,  pas- 
sionate breath  had  never  quickened  her  pulse  or  flushed 
her  face. 

There  was  one  thing  about  her  that  good  Mrs.  Eivers 
would  fain  have  seen  altered — that  was  a quiet  gravity 
that  at  times  almost  amounted  to  sadness.  At  times, 
too,  Daisy  startled(  her  nurse. 

“Mother!”  she  said  one  morning,  suddenly,  “have  I 
ever  seen  in  my  life  a lady  with  a beautiful  though  sad 
face,  and  mournful,  loving  eyes?  I dream  so  often  of 
such  a face,  I must  have  seen  it.” 

Mrs.  Eivers  was  more  startled  than  she  cared  to  own, 

“ 1 can  not  tell,  my  dear,”  she  replied.  “ Dreams  are 
all  nonsense.” 

“ 1 used  to  dream  when  I was  quite  a little  girl  about 
that  same  face,”  said  Daisy,  “years  ago,  before  we  left 
Deepdale;  and  1 dream  of  it  still.  It  grows  more 


vague 

JS 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  21 


and  indistinct  though,  and  seems  to  smile  more  sadly  every 
rime  the  dream  comes.” 


“ Why  did  you  never  tell  me  of  it  before?” 

4 1 can  not  tell.  I heard  you  say  so  often  that  dreams 
were  all  nonsense,”  she  replied;  44  but  I must  have  seen 
the  picture  of  such  a face  some  time.” 

It  was  quite  possible  that  the  child  still  dreamed  of  her 
mother.  She  was  nearly  three  years  old  when  that  mother 
left  her  to  find  death  in  the  deep  sea.  The  dream  might 
return;  the  image  or  memory  of  the  face  might  still  re- 
main in  the  child’s  mind,  returning  more  vividly  in  her 
sleeping  than  in  her  waking  hours. 

The  question  made  Nurse  Rivers  again  ask  herself 
whether  she  ought  to  tell  the  young  girl  the  true  story  of 
her  life. 


44  Not  yet,”  she  said — 44  not  yet!  There  will  be  tears 
enough  and  sorrow  enough  in  the  years  to  come.  I will 
not  awaken  her  yet.” 

When  Daisy  was  sixteen,  an  offer  was  made  to  her  that 
pleased  her  adopted  mother.  The  lady  superintendent  of 
a large  school  in  Queen’s  Lynne,  struck  with  her  lady-like 
demeanor,  modest  manners,  and  quick  intelligence,  offered 
her  a situation  as  junior  teacher  in  her  school.  In  place 
of  salary  she  was  to  receive  lessons  in  music,  drawing, 
and  French.  Simple,  innocent  Daisy  thought  herself  in 
fairy-land.  Rita  scornfully  declared  she  would  not  have 
gone  if  Miss  Toffies  had  offered  her  a hundred  a year. 

44  Our  ways  in  life  will  never  be  the  same,  Daisy,”  said 
the  young  beauty.  44  You  have  no  ambition.” 

So  Daisy  went  to  Miss  Toffies,  thereby,  in  some  measure, 
sealing  her  own  fate.  The  school  was  some  three  miles 
distant,  and  she  was  allowed  to  go  home  only  at  stated  in- 
tervals. There  she  quickly  learned  all  that  Miss  Toffies 
could  teach.  When  Daisy  reached  her  nineteenth  year 
she  was  both  educated  and  accomplished,  and  Mrs.  Rivens 


22 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


looked  with  proud  satisfaction  upon  the  girl  whom  sh& 
loved  dearly  as  her  own  child. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

One  lovely  evening,  toward  the  end  of  August,  a young 
girl  walked  slowly  down  the  long  stretch  of  yellow  sand. 
Far  out  in  the  distance  lay  the  broad  blue  sea.  The  waves 
rose  with  a gentle  murmur  and  fell  with  a musical  ripple; 
the  sky  was  all  aflame  with  gorgeous  colors.  But  neither 
the  beauty  of  color  nor  sound  made  any  impression  upon 
the  young  girl.  Never  once  were  her  eyes  turned  to  the 
sky  or  the  sea— never  once  did  she  pause  and  listen  to  the 
faint  music  of  the  wind  and  waves. 

Yet  that  countenance  should  have  belonged  to  one 
capable  of  appreciating  both.  It  is  seldom  that  under  our 
cold  northern  sky  a face  of  such  wondrous  loveliness  is 
seen.  It  belonged  rather  to  the  daughters  of  sunny  Spain. 

It  was  a face  that  drew  all  eyes  and  charmed  all  hearts 
—so  bright  and  glowing,  so  piquant  and  charming.  Such 
beauty  might  have  been  the  dowry  of  a queen.  Nature,  in 
her  caprice,  had  lavished  it  upon  Mrs.  Rivers’s  only  child. 
The  slender,  girlish  figure  was  graceful  and  dignified;  but 
Margaret  Rivers  lacked,  with  all  her  beauty,  the  high-bred 
air  of  refinement  that  characterized  her  sister  Daisy. 

The  two  girls  were  as  dissimilar  in  mind  as  in  person. 
Rita  was  proud  to  an  inordinate  degree  of  her  beauty. 
A vain  longing  for  riches  and  grandeur  consumed  her. 
She  longed  for  all  that  wealth  can  procure — for  rich  dresses 
and  costly  jewels.  Would  she  never  attend  balls  and 
parties?  Ah!  if  she  were  but  rich! — if  she  could  but  go 
among  the  gay  and  fashionable!  There  was  no  one  in  looks 
to  compare  with  her.  What  was  the  use  of  such  a face 
and  such  a figure  if  she  were  to  live  always  unknown  at 
Rooks’  Nest?  If  she  could  but  once  gain  admittance  into 
the  great  world,  these  would  soon  lie  at  her  feet!  Rich 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


23 


noblemen  often  married  for  beauty;  so,  at  least,  romances 
said.  Who  could  tell  what  might  be  in  store  for  her? 
Perhaps  wealth — titled  honors.  She  might  even  live  to  be 
one  of  the  queens  of  that  gay  world  where  she  longed  to 
shine! 

All  these  thoughts  rushed  through  the  vain,  worldly 
heart  of  Rita  as  she  strolled  that  summer  evening  along 
the  sands.  Margaret  Rivers  had  fire,  passion,  force,  and  a 
certain  kind  of  cleverness;  but  of  truth  and  high  principle, 
of  true  nobility  of  soul,  she  had  none. 

Day  by  day  she  sat  in  the  little  garden  that  looked  down 
the  high-road,  longing,  with  all  the  force  of  her  vain,  pas- 
sionate heart,  for  something  to  happen  which  should  en- 
able her  to  gratify  her  wishes.  People  looked  at  the 
handsome,  restless  face,  and  wondered  at  its  expression. 

Mrs.  Rivers  did  not  understand  her  own  child.  She 
looked  wistfully  sometimes  at  the  proud  girl,  and  thought 
how  her  life  was  wasted  in  the  solitude  of  Rooks’  Nest. 
But  of  the  dreams  and  aspirations— the  hopes  and  longings 
that  filled  her  daughter’s  heart — she  knew  nothing. 

A change  came  at  last  for  Margaret  Rivers — not  love — at 
least,  not  love  in  its  highest,  holiest  sense  of  the  word; 
but  there  came  a break  in  the  monotony  of  her  life. 

One  morning  as  she  was  walking  from  her  home  to 
Queen’s  Lynne,  she  met  a handsome  young  man,  with  one 
of  the  few  young  girls  she  knew.  He  looked  admiringly  at 
Rita,  to  whom  his  companion  introduced  him.  All  three 
went  to  Queen’s  Lynne  together;  and,  during  that  walk, 
Rita  learned  sufficient  to  give  her  IT  great  interest  in  all 
that  concerned  Ralph  Ashton.  He  was  a first  mate;  and, 
although  young,  there  was  no  one  on  the  coast  so  skillful 
or  so  trustworthy  as  he.  He  told  strange  stories  of  for- 
eign countries  that  he  had  visited;  of  gold  easily  earned 
and  lavishly  spent;  of  wealth  that  he  might  accumulate  il 
lie  only  cared  to  do  so. 


*4  LOUD  LISLE’S  DAmHTER. 

Then  Rita  looked  at  him.  Rich— -he  might  be  rich,  if  h& 
had  any  motive  for  saving  and  making  money. 

“ I would  give/’  she  said,  firmly,  “anything  in  this 
world  for  money.  I am  tired  of  living  here  by  the  rest- 
less, noisy  sea.  I long  to  see  life  as  others  see  it.  1 should 
like  to  wear  sweeping  dresses  and  gleaming  jewels. ” 

He  interrupted  her  eagerly: 

“ So  you  ought  to  do — so  you  will,”  he  said.  “All  that 
is  fairest  and  brightest  in  this  world  ought  to  be  laid  at  your 
feet.  Ah,  if  it  were  but  mine!” 

Rita  smiled,  but  the  words  sunk  deeply  into  her  heart. 
She  met  Ralph  Ashton  again  and  again — sometimes  on  the 
shady  high-road  and  sometimes  by  the  sea-shore.  She 
heeded  little  the  passionate  love  he  had  for  her,  but  she 
thought  much  of  his  future.  If  he  were  so  skillful  and 
clever,  if  the  secrets  of  deep  seas  were  known  to  him,  and 
he  could  trade  upon  them,  it  was  possible  that  in  time  he 
might  be  rich  and  give  her  her  heart’s  desire.  It  was  true 
some  people  spoke  strangely  o£  him,  and  hinted  at  large 
cargoes  run  in  during  the  dead  of  night,  and  prophesied 
that  Ralph  Ashton’s  money  would  never  do  him  any  good. 
But  Rita  heeded  that  as  little  as  she  did  the  fierce,  pas- 
sionate love  that  had  mastered  him,  and  brought  him  a 
slave  to  her  feet. 

Not  one  word  did  she  ever  say  to  her  mother  or  Daisy 
relative  to  this  strange  lover,  with  his  dark,  handsome  face 
and  musical  voice.  She  felt  instinctively  that  Daisy  would 
not  like  him,  and  she  had  once  heard  her  own  mother  speak 
of  him  as  an  adventurer.  She  met  him,  not  because  she 
liked  him,  but  because  she  liked  the  flattery  of  his  love. 
It  was  pleasant  to  sit  on  the  shore  while  he  told  her  of  the 
time  when  they  should  go  together  to  bright,  far-off  lands, 
where  she  would  be  looked  upon  as  a queen — how  he 
would  work  for  her,  toil  for  her,  slave  for  her  until  every 
wish  of  her  heart  was  gratified. 

And  when  he,  loving  her  with  all  the  strength  of  his 


loud  lisle’s  daughter.  25 

wild  nature,  asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  she  did  not  promise 
at  first,  but  she  did  not  refuse.  She  wanted  time  to  con- 
sider, and  as  the  monotonous  weeks  passed  on  and  nothing 
happened,  she  began  to  think  that  marrying  Ralph  Ashton 
was  the  wisest  thing  she  could  do.  He  promised  to  take 
her  far  away  from  these  parts.  Whether  he  believed  him- 
self that  he  could  accomplish  all  he  promised  to  do  no 
one  can  say;  but  she  believed  it  because  she  wished  it. 

Ralph  Ashton  was  to  be  pitied.  He  might  have  occasion- 
ally aided  in  some  smuggling  expedition,  but  in  his  love  for 
Rita  he  was  sincere  and  honest.  And  when,  one  summer 
evening,  after  much  pleading,  the  haughty  lips  smiled  and 
said,  “ Yes,”  genuine  tears  fell  from  his  eyes. 

“ I will  make  you  so  happy,  my  darling/ ’ he  said; 
“ every  wish  of  your  heart  shall  be  gratified.  You  love 
me,  Rita,  do  you  not?” 

“ Yes,”.she  said,  gently,  “ I love  you.”  But,  even  as 
she  spoke,  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  future,  and 
the  one  haunting  question  never  satisfactorily  answered, 
“ Could  she  have  done  better?”  And  while  Ralph  poured 
out  his  love  in  words  that  must  have  touched  another 
heart,  she  went  over  again  all  the  old  arguments  and  rea- 
sons that  had  decided  her  upon  accepting  him. 

It  was  arranged  between  them  that  nothing  should  be 
said  at  present  to  Mrs.  Rivers.  The  marriage  could  not 
take  place  for  the  next  year  and  a half.  In  one  month 
Ralph  was  going  on  a voyage — one  that  would  bring  in 
plenty  of  money;  it  was  not  worth  while  mentioning  the 
engagement  until  that  voyage  was  over. 

“ But  you  will  be  true  to  me,  Rita?”  said  he.  “Re- 
member, you  hold  my  life  and  soul  in  your  hands.” 

“ I will  be  true,”  she  said,  calmly. 

He  was  absent  after  that  for  three  days;  but  all  Rita’s 
misgivings  were  set  at  rest  on  his  return.  He  had  brought 
her  a “wedding  present,”  he  called  it.  How  much  of 
his  hard  earnings  had  been  spent  on  it,  he  knew  best. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


25 

They  met  as  usual  on  the  sands,  and  he  put  into  her  hands 
a small  morocco  case.  Eita  opened  it.  and,  with  a cry  of 
delight,  saw  a pair  of  diamond  ear-rings  that  shone  with 
a light  that  dazzled  her  eyes.  A diamond  ring  lay  near 
them,  and  Ealph  placed  it  on  her  finger. 

‘ 6 That  is  our  betrothal  ring/*  he  said,  “ and  the  time 
will  come  when  you  shall  wear  as  many  diamonds  as  you 
like.  Let  me  place  these  ear-drops  in  your  ears.  ” 

The  diamonds  were  not  brighter  or  more  full  of  fire 
than  the  dark  eyes  raised  in  mute  wonder  and  startled 
admiration  to  his  face. 

“ Oh,  Ealph !”  she  said,  “how  lovely,  how  costly!  1 
never  thought  I should  have  a real  diamond  of  my  own.” 

She  was  so  pleased,  and  looked  so  beautiful  in  her  joy, 
that  Ealph  Ashton  would  gladly  have  parted  with  all  he 
had  in  the  world  for  such  a look.  The  gems  had  well- 
nigh  emptied  his  purse;  still,  he  thought  not,  cared  not. 

She  never  gave  one  thought  to  any  sacrifice  he  might 
have  made  to  procure  so  costly  a present  for  her,  or  of  the 
love  that  had  actuated  him;  she  only  gloried  in  her  own 
bright,  vivid  beauty,  and  how  the  jewels  would  increase  it. 

Ealph  Ashton  had  but  another  fortnight  to  remain  in 
England;  and  one  evening,  when  the  tide  was  out  and  the 
sun  setting  he  went  to  meet  Eita  on  the  sands.  As  the 
time  approached  for  his  departure,  something  like  fear  and 
doubt  took  possession  of  his  mind. 

He  began  to  wonder  if  Eita  would  be  true  to  him  during 
his  absence.  She  who  loved  wealth  and  longed  for  grand- 
eur— would  she  be  true  if  a lover  should  come  with  gold 
and  fortune?  A fierce  half  doubt  took  hold  of  him  and 
blanched  his  dark  face.  For  many  months  they  had  met 
on  the  sands,  and  he  had  told  her  of  his  love  in  words  that 
would  have  burned  their  way  to  another  heart;  but  he  did 
not  remember  that  she  had  ever  blushed,  or  that  her  proud 
face  had  ever  softened  for  him.  “ He  would  see  her  this 
evening,”  he  said  to  himself;  “and  bind  her  to  him  by 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  2? 

A vow  so  solemn,  that  she,  who  feared  little,  should  fear 
to  break  it.”  For  two  whole  days  he  had  not  seen  her.’ 
Mrs.  Eivers  lay  ill,  and  her  daughter  could  not  leave  the 
house;  but  to-night  she  had  promised  to  come,  and  he 
knew  she  would  keep  her  word. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  evening  had  come,  and  Ralph  Ashton  proceeded  to 
the  sea-shore  to  meet  the  haughty  beauty  he  so  passionately 
loved,  and  to  bind  her,  if  possible,  to  a vow  of  constancy 
from  which  she  should  never  swerve.  The  tide  was  out, 
and  the  sun  was  setting  behind  a red  bank  of  cloud. 

Rita  saw  her  lover  approaching;  she  noted  the  anxious, 
depressed  look  on  the  face  usually  so  bright  and  hopeful. 

44  I had  great  difficulty  in  getting  away,”  she  said; 
44  my  mother  is  still  very  far  from  well;  but  you  wanted 
me,  and  1 am  here.  Tell  me  quickly  what  it  is — my 
time  must  be  short.  ” 

They  sat  down  upon  two  large  stones,  and  the  waves 
rolled  in  dreamily,  noiselessly  at  their  feet. 

64 1 am  not  happy,  Rita,”  said  he.  44 1 wish  I could 
stay  near  you,  you  are  so  enchanting.  Some  one  is  sure  to 
try  and  steal  you  from  me  while  I am  away.” 

44  There  is  not  much  to  fear,”  she  replied,  with  a smile 
and  a sigh. 

44  Even  if  it  should  be  so,”  he  continued,  44  you  would  be 
constant  to  me,  would  you  not,  Rita?” 

There  was  not  a quiver  on  the  proud  lips  that  said 
calmly: 

44  Of  course  I should,  Ralph;”  and  her  eyes,  still  bent 
on  the  waves,  never  sought  his. 

44  Tell  me  so  in  another  tone  of  voice,”  he  cried;  44  look 
at  me  as  though  you  loved  me!  It  is  a terrible  thing  to 
win  the  whole  of  a man’s  heart,  as  you  have  won  the  whole 
of  mine.  It  would  be  dangerous  to  deceive  me,  Rita;  my 


2 8 LORI)  lisle’s  daughter. 

whole  life  and  love  lie  at  your  feet.  I,  who  fear  nothing— 
the  wildest  storm  never  daunted  me — tremble  at  one  word 
or  look  of  yours.  You  are  my  own,  and  I am  yours.  Deal 
gently  with  me — tell  me  you  love  me/’ 

44  You  know  it,  Ralph,”  she  said,  more  gently,  for  the 
passion  of  his  words  alarmed  her,  hut  he  listened  in  vain 
for  the  true  ring  in  that  musical  voice—it  was  not  there. 

“I  try  to  believe  it,”  he  said;  44  if  I were  to  doubt  it 
I should  go  mad.  I could  not  live  without  you,  Rita;  the 
world  would  be  a dreary  blank.  Were  you  to  die,  my 
darling,  I could  not  survive  you.  If  you  deceived  me—” 

44  What  should  you  do?”  she  asked. 

44 1 would  follow  you  through  the  wide  world,”  he  said, 
44  and  when  I found  you,  as  truly  as  the  sun  sets,  1 would 
kill  you,  Rita,  and  thus  avenge  myself.” 

In  after-years  she  remembered  his  words;  in  the  most 
terrible  hour  of  her  life  they  came  back  to  her,  and  she 
knew  he  meant  what  he  had  said. 

44  Do  not  talk  in  that  wild  way,  Ralph,”  she  said;  44  you 
alarm  me.” 

In  one  moment  the  fierce  look  had  left  his  face,  and  he 
was  himself  again. 

44  Forgive  me,  Rita,”  he  said,  humbly;  44  the  very 
thought  drives  me  to  despair.  You  will  be  true  to  me, 
will  you  not,  darling?  When  you  are  my  wife  I shall  be 
a good  man.  I must  do  something  for  the  kind  Heaven 
that  gives  me  my  treasure.  It  is  not  only  my  heart,  but 
my  soul,  that  you  hold  in  your  hands.  Deal  gently  with 
me.  I have  staked  all  my  life  on  one  throw.” 

44  When  do  you  go?”  she  asked.  His  unusual  serious- 
ness dismayed  her.  She  was  there  to  listen  to  praises,  not 
threats. 

44  In  ten  days,”  he  said,  looking  almost  wistfully  in  that 
wondrous  face,  but  no  change,  no  cloud  came  over  it; 
44  and  you  have  promised  me,  Rita,  we  shall  be  married  on 
the  first  week  of  my  return.  ” 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


99 

“ 1 have  promised/'  she  said,  “ and  I will  keep  my 
word. " 

' He  looked  over  the  wide  sea,  and  again  to  the  shining 
sky. 

“ Rita,"  he  said,  suddenly,  “ I shall  bind  you  to  me 
by  a vow.  You  are  mine  before  Heaven.  Swear  to  me 
that  you  will  never  care  for  another,  and  that  until  you  die 
you  will  be  faithful  to  me. " 

She  would  have  hesitated,  but  there  was  a look  in  his 
face  that  compelled  her  to  obedience.  The  bloom  faded 
from  her  countenance  as  she  repeated  after  him  words 
so  solemn  her  whole  soul  was  subdued  by  their  strength. 

“ There/'  said  Ralph  Ashton,  releasing  her  hands,  “ I 
am  quite  satisfied.  Neither  you  nor  any  other  woman 
breathing  dare  break  such  an  oath  as  that." 

Long  after  Ralph  Ashton  left  her  Margaret  Rivers  sat 
^dreaming  by  the  sea— not  of  the  fierce,  true  love  she  had 
won  — not  of  the  strong,  passionate  heart  that  lay  i r her 
hand — not  of  the  soul  she  might  help  to  save— but  of  the 
old,  tormenting  doubt:  64  Had  she  done  the  best  she 
could?"  For  the  first  time  that  evening  she  realized  what 
she  had  done.  Ralph  Ashton's  hold  upon  her  was  for  life. 
He  would  never  let  her  go.  Had  she  done  the  best  she 
could?  True,  he  made  money — he  would  one  day,  per- 
haps, be  rich  in  a certain  kind  of  way — but,  after  all,  he 
was  not  a gentleman.  He  had  given  her  jewels;  but  com- 
mon sense  and  reason  forbade  her  ever  to  think  he  could 
repeat  the  gift.  All  the  visions  and  dreams  he  had  won 
her  with  seemed  unreal  now.  Over  and  over  again  she 
asked  herself  if,  with  her  glorious  dower  of  beauty,  she  had 
done  her  best. 

No  warning  came  in  the  mysterious  voice  of  the  sea,  or 
in  the  music  of  the  summer  night,  to  tell  her  that  on  this 
very  evening  the  crisis  of  her  life  had  begun. 

She  sat  watching  the  waves  until  the  tide  began  to  roll 
in  more  quickly,  and  the  light  faded  in  the  western  sky. 


so 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


Then  Rita,  rousing  herself  from  her  dreams,  went  slow- 
ly home.  Rooks5  Nest  is  some  distance  from  Queen's 
Lynne,  and  the  evening  had  grown  dark  before  she  reached 
home. 

All  visions  were  forgotten  when  she  stood  once  more  in 
her  mother’s  house.  Mrs.  Rivers  had  long  been  ailing. 
For  some  days  the  doctor  had  been  attending  her,  but  did 
not  say  she  was  in  any  immediate  danger.  When  Rita  left 
her  that  evening  to  meet  her  lover,  one  of  her  neighbors 
offered  to  sit  with  her  while  the  young  girl  was  out.  This 
same  woman  met  her  now  at  the  door,  with  a pale,  scared 
face. 

“ Miss  Rita,"  she  cried,  “ where  have  you  been?  Your 
mother  has  been  taken  so  ill  1 thought  you  would  never 
see  her  again." 

And  when  Rita  stood  by  her  mother's  bedside,  and  saw 
the  fatal  change  that  had  come  over  the  kindly,  homely 
face,^tears  of  genuine  sorrow  filled  her  eyes. 

“ Your  mother  is  very  ill,"  said  the  doctor,  gently. 
“ The  immediate  danger  seems  to  have  passed,  but  she 
must  be  carefully  watched  all  night,  and  if  the  least 
change  takes  place  send  for  me." 

There  were  many  offers  of  assistance,  but  Rita  saw 
her  mother  wished  to  be  left  alone  with  her.  In  her  cool, 
grand  way,  she  bade  “ good-night " to  those  who  would 
fain  have  lingered.  She  arranged  the  sick-room,  shaded 
the  lamp  so  that  the  light  should  not  fall  on  her  mother's 
face,  prepared  cooling  drinks,  and  then  took  her  seat  by 
her  dying  mother's  side. 

“Rita,"  said  the  faint,  changed  voice,  “is  it  too  late 
to  send  for  Daisy?  I want  to  see  her.  I shall  not  live 
until  the  sun  rises  to-morrow.  I feel  death-cold  at  my 
heart,  and  I must  see  Daisy  before  I die." 

“ I will  do  my  best,"  said  Rita,  gently;  “ but  you  will 
not  die  yet,  mother." 

“ I know,  child,"  said  the  sick  woman.  “ I can  feel 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


31 


that  the  end  of  my  life  has  come.  I shall  have  seen  your 
father  again  before  to-morrow  dawns,  Eita.  A doctor’s 
words  signify  nothing;  they  can  not  know.  I feel  it, 
and  I must  see  Daisy.” 

But  midnight  had  struck  before  a messenger  could  be 
found  to  go  for  Daisy.  It  was  a long  walk  there,  and  Eita 
knew  the  summer  morning  would  dawn  before  her  sister 
could  reach  home.  She  told  her  mother  so;  and  Susan 
Kivers,  turning  her  pallid  face  to  the  wall,  moaned  aloud. 

44  Are  we  quite  alone,  Eita?”  asked  the  sick  woman,  in 
a low,  faint  voice. 

“ Quite  alone,  mother,”  said  the  young  girl.  The 
moonbeams  peeped  in  at  the  window,  throwing  long  lines 
of  silver  light  on  the  floor;  the  deep,  solemn  hush  of  the 
night  was  unbroken,  save  by  the  murmur  of  the  wind 
and  the  distant  breaking  of  the  waves.  Margaret  Eivers 
never  forgot  that  night — its  solemn  silence  and  dim  light. 

“ I have  a secret,  Eita,”  said  the  faint  voice.  44  I 
have  held  it  many  years.  I must  see  Daisy  before  I die, 
and  tell  it  to  her.  If  she  does  not  come,  I must  tell  it  to 
you;  and  you  must  hold  it  in  charge,  sacredly,  as  I have 
done.*” 

The  long  night  wore  on,  and  Daisy  did  not  come. 

“ Eita,”  said  the  dying  woman,  66  unlock  that  little  box 
for  me,  and  take  out  the  parcel  that  lies  there.” 

Eita  obeyed;  her  mother’s  trembling  fingers  could  not 
unfasten  the  string;  she  opened  it— and  there  lay  a ring  of 
pearls,  a locket  with  fair  and  dark  hair  intwined,  the 
initials  64  M ” and  44  A ” in  the  center;  with  them  lay  a 
packet  of  letters,  written  in  a fair,  delicate  hand. 

64  Those  are  Daisy’s,”  said  Susan;  44  give  them  to  her. 
Bend  down,  Eita— lower  still— while  I tell  you  the  secret 
I have  kept  for  fifteen  y&ars.  Daisy  is  not  my  child,  Eita; 
she  is  not  your  own  sister,  as  you  have  always  believed  her 
to  be.” 

She  paused,  for  Eita  cried  out  in  astonishment. 


32 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


“ Are  you  dreaming,  mother?”  she  said. 

“ No,”  replied  Mrs.  Eivers;  “ these  things  prove  my 
story  is  no  dream.  Look  in  the  register  at  St.  John’s,  in 
Deepdale;  there  you  will  find  I have  only  one  child — Mar- 
garet, my  only  daughter.  Daisy  is  no  child  of  mine.” 

“ Who  is  she?”  asked  Rita,  in  utter  amazement. 

“ That  is  the  story  I must  tell  you;  and  you  must 
repeat  every  word  to  her,  if — if  I do  not  see  her  again. 
I have  never  spoken  to  you  much  of  my  early  life,  Rita,” 
continued  her  mother,  “ and  my  silence  has  been  for 
Daisy’s  sake.  My  parents  were  respectable  west-country 
people,  who  sent  me  to  school,  and  did  their  best  for  me. 
When  they  died,  I went  out  to  service.  I never  had  but 
one  place,  and  that  was  at  Mr.  Arle’s — a rich  merchant 
who  lived  in  Hampshire.  He  had  one  daughter.  Miss 
Margaret  Arle;  and,  although  1 was  but  sixteen,  the  entire 
charge  of  her  was  intrusted  to  me.” 

Mrs.  Rivvers  then  proceeded  to  tell  her  daughter  all 
the  particulars  relative  to  the  bankruptcy  and  death  of 
Miss  Arle’s  father;  of  the  young  lady’s  marriage;  and  the 
leaving  of  her  child  in  her  charge,  as  already  unfolded  to 
the  reader. 

“ She  was,”  concluded  the  mother,  “ but  a little  child 
when  we  left  Deepdale  and  came  to  Queen’s  Lynne.  For 
my  dead  mistress’s  sake,  I have  kept  the  secret.  No  one 
ever  dreams  that  Daisy  is  other  than  my  own  child — no 
one  suspects  it.  I tell  you  now,  Rita,  for  I shall  see  her 
mother  in  another  world,  and  she  will  ask  me  if  I have 
done  my  best.  ” 

CHAPTER  Yl. 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  Mrs.  Rivers’s 
voice  had  grown  faint  and  exhausted.  Rita  sat  lost  in 
bewildered  surprise. 

“ And  what  am  I to  do,  mother?”  she  asked. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


33 


“ Give  these  to  Daisy/’  she  replied;  “this  locket  and 
ring,  with  the  letters.  Tell  her  the  story  I have  told  you. 
Tell  her  I have  no  clew  to  her  father’s  name,  save  that 
he  was  called  Captain  Arthur,  and  that  his  regiment  was 
in  India  in  18 — . Perhaps  he  died  there.  If  ever  Daisy 
wins  friends,  they  will  make  inquiries  for  her;  but  if  she 
finds  the  marriage  was  not  a legal  one,  tell  her  I charge 
her  for  her  dead  mother’s  sake  to  let  the  story  die,  so 
that  no  taint  may  be  upon  Margaret  Arle’s  name.  You 
will  give  her  these  messages  faithfully,  Rita?  Promise 
me.” 

“ I will  not  omit  one  word,”  replied  her  daughter, 
breathlessly. 

“ For  you,”  said  the  dying  woman,  “ I have  no  fear. 
This  little  house  will  always  be  your  own.  You  will  have 
money  sufficient  to  support  you.  Had  Heaven  so  willed  it, 
I should  like  to  have  lived  long  enough  to  hold  your 
children  in  my  arms.  I have  been  very  proud  of  your 
beauty,  child;  but  things  look  so  different  in  the  strong 
light  of  eternity.  1 have  often  thought  you  proud  and 
vain.  Ah,  Rita!  you  will  lie  some  day  where  I am  lying 
now — remember  it  is  all  vanity!  Do  not  fix  your  heart  on 
the  world’s  honors  and  riches.  Ah,  me,  that  pain!  I 
shall  not  see  Daisy  again,  kiss  her  for  me,  and  tell  her  how 
well  1 love  her.” 

Even  as  she  uttered  the  words  an  awful,  gray  pallor  set- 
tled on  her  face,  and  Rita  went  hastily  to  summon  aid. 
But  no  human  help  could  avail  for  Mrs.  Rivers — the  fiat 
had  gone ' forth.  The  doctor  was  summoned,  friends 
came,  and  stood  near;  the  faithful  heart  was  fast  nearing 
its  rest.  She  did  not  speak  again.  In  the  faint  morning 
light,  when  Daisy  came  and  bent  over  her,  no  look  of 
recognition  shone  in  the  dim  eyes;  they  were  closed  to  all 
earthly  things. 

Before  Mrs.  Rivers  died — before  Daisy  came  home— Rita 


34 


LORD  LISLE  S DAUGHTER. 


gathered  the  contents  of  the  little  parcel  together*  and 
placed  them  carefully  in  her  own  box. 

“ There  will  be  time  enough  for  telling  her  that  strange 
story,”  she  thought. 

And  Daisy,  all  unconscious,  knelt  by  her  supposed  moth- 
er^ side.  She  closed  the  kind  eyes  that  had  always  looked 
tenderly  on  her,  and  when  she  knew  that  death  had  claimed 
his  own,  she  wept  bitter  tears  of  sorrow.  Yet,  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  white,  cold  face,  she  felt,  in  some  strange 
way,  it  was  not  part  of  herself  that  lay  there. 

Friends  and  neighbors  comforted  the  two  orphan  girls, 
iow  left  utterly  alone.  Daisy  felt  as  though  her  heart 
would  break,  and  wondered  at  the  strange,  dreamy  look 
on  Rita’s  face.  There  was  not  much  time  for  weeping, 
preparations  had  to  be  made  for  the  funeral.  Poor  Mrs. 
Rivers’s  only  friend  in  Deepdale,  an  old  widow  lady,  Mrs. 
Feme,  took  up  her  abode  at  the  cottage,  where  mourning 
dresses  and  arrangements  for  the  funeral  deepened  the 
gloom  of  the  young  girls. 

Rita  said  to  herself  that  there  was  no  opportunity  of  tell- 
ing Daisy  the  story  until  after  the  funeral.  As  she 
watched  her  adopted  sister  a feeling  of  envy  crept  into  her 
heart.  For  the  first  time,  she  was  struck  by  the  difference 
between  Daisy  and  herself.  She  noted  the  air  of  high- 
bred refinement;  the  spiritual  expression  of  the  sweet, 
pure  face;  the  little  hands,  so  white  and  beautifully  formed; 
the  graceful  symmetry  of  the  slight,  girlish  figure.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  this  girl,  whom  she  had  always  looked 
down  upon  as  her  younger  and  inferior  sister,  might  turn 
out  to  be  the  child  of  a rich  and  noble  father?  Either  she 
was  that  or  her  very  birth  was  a shame  and  disgrace. 
Which  could  it  be? 

Her  mother  had  entertained  cruel  doubts;  could  they 
have  been  just  ones?  In  the  dead  silence  of  the  night  Rita 
rose  and  unlocked  the  box  containing  her  trust.  She  read 
Margaret  Arle’s  letters  over  and  over  again.  Ah!  there 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


m 


could  be  no  doubt,  she  spoke  so  proudly  of  her  husband; 
it  had  been  a real  marriage,  Rita  felt  sure,  and  no  mock 
one.  Whoever  Captain  Arthur  might  be,  Daisy  was  his 
legitimate  child.  What  if  he  were  a man  of  high  position 
as  well  as  good  birth?  Then  Daisy  would  be  a lady— would 
enter,  by  right,  that  gay  world  Rita  thought  paradise. 
She  would  be  rich  and  happy.  Why  had  fate  and  fortune 
favored  her?  Ah!  would  that  Daisy  had  been  Mrs.  Rivers's 
own  child  and  she  the  captain's  daughter! 

Then,  with  the  letters  in  her  hand,  she  fell  into  a wak- 
ing dream.  If  it  had  been  so,  she  would  never  rest  until 
she  had  discovered  him — she  would  search  for  him  until 
he  was  found.  Then  she  would  win  his  love.  He  would 
surely  be  pleased  with,  and  proud  of  her  magnificent 
beauty.  Then  all  she  had  longed  for  would  be  hers.  She 
saw  herself  superbly  dressed,  with  gleaming  jewels,  with 
lovers  sighing  around  her— with  the  gay,  the  great,  and  the 
noble  all  offering  her  homage.  The  vain,  worldly  heart 
was  dazzled  with  the  picture;  but  the  cold  reality  came  and 
chilled  her — all  this  was  for  Daisy,  and  not  for  herself. 

With  a deep  sigh,  she  relocked  the  box,  and  went  back 
to  the  little  room  where  Daisy  slept.  The  moon  shone 
brightly;  one  of  its  silvery  beams*  touched  Daisy's  face, 
lingering  almost  lovingly  on  the  clear,  calm  brow  and  the 
delicate,  spiritual  features.  Rita  bent  over  her,  silently 
wondering,  until  wonder  became  jealous  pain,  what  the 
future  held  in  store  for  the  sleeping  girl.  Suddenly,  across 
her  face  there  came  a strange  expression,  as  of  a wild,  deep 
thought;  it  lingered  there,  filling  the  dark  eyes  with 
gloom. 

She  held  out  her  hands  in  horror,  as  though  trying  to 
drive  it  from  her,  but  it  would  not  go. 

“Not  now,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  “I  will  not 
think  of  it  now.  * have  to  kiss  my  mother's  face  again. " 

Yet  the  thought  had  a weird  fascination  for  her.  She 
could  not  sleep,  she  could  not  rest;  ideas  crowded  upon 


36 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


her  almost  against  her  will;  plans  and  arrangempwts  sug- 
gested themselves  to  her.  Early  dawn  found  Margaret 
Eivers  pale  and  absorbed. 

The  sun  rose,  and  the  day  was  the  one  appointed  for 
Mrs.  Rivers’s  funeral.  The  two  girls  went  together  to  the 
darkened  room,  where  she  lay,  and  took  their  last  fare- 
well of  her.  Warm  tears  fell  from  Daisy’s  eyes  upon  the 
cold  form  she  had  always  dearly  loved;  but  no  tears  dimmed 
the  dark  eyes  that  had  so  strange  an  expression. 

The  funeral  was  over;  friends  and  neighbors  had  all 
withdrawn,  Mrs.  Feme  alone  remaining.  Daisy  was  pre- 
paring to  return  to  Miss  Toffies ’s  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, and  still  the  secret  was  not  told,  the  trust  was  unful- 
filled; and  the  younger  git]  wondered  why  the  elder  one 
shunned  her,  and  what  it  was  that  clouded  Rita’s  face  with 
something  deeper  than  sorrow.  She  little  dreamed  of  the 
fierce  warfare  going  on  in  that  vain,  passionate  heart;  she 
little  knew  that  good  and  evil  were  fighting^  hard  battle; 
that  her  own  destiny  and  Rita’s  hung  trembling  in  the  bal- 
ance. 

That  night,  while  Daisy  slept,  Rita  watched  and  fought 
the  battle  that  decided  the  course  of  her  life.  For  many 
long  hours  the  battle  had  raged,  and  evil  was  fast  triumph- 
ing over  good. 

She  had  never  told  the  story;  for  on  the  night  she  gazed 
with  jealous  envy  on  Daisy  as  she  lay  sleeping,  a thought 
came  to  her  which  burned  its  way  into  her  heart,  and 
would  not  leave  her.  Daisy  knew  nothing  of  the  secret. 
No  one  in  the  wide  world  knew  it  but  herself.  There  was 
no  proof  except  such  as  she  held  in  her  hands.  Why  not 
put  herself  in  Daisy’s  place,  and  call  herself  Captain 
Arthur’s  daughter?  Who  would  know?  The  only  two 
who  could  detect  the  imposition — Daisy’s  mother  and  her 
own — were  both  dead. 

At  first  the  thought  that  glanced  through  her  mind 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  8? 

shocked  her;  it  was  too  base  a betrayal  of  her  mother’s 
trust.  But  gently  and  subtly  it  stole  back  and  nestled 
there  a welcome  guest. 

Still  she  did  not  dare,  while  her  mother  lay  unburied 
there,  to  arrange  her  plans.  When  she  stood,  as  it  were, 
alone  in  the  world,  she  made  up  her  mind. 

It  was  a fierce  battle;  there  was  something  of  good  in 
the  vain,  worldly,  ambitious  nature,  and  her  better  self 
cried  out  at  the  base  design;  but  the  good  was  conquered 
on  that  summer  night  when  she  stood  at  the  window 
watching  the  quiet  stars.  The  temptation  was  too  strong 
— she  yielded — and  the  great  battle  was  lost. 

There  seemed  no  obstacle,  not  even  one  difficulty  to 
overcome — thanks  to  the  fate  that  had  called  her  Mar- 
garet, and  had  given  to  Daisy  the  same  name.  Margaret 
Rivers  was,  according  to  the  register,  the  only  child  Mrs. 
Rivers  had.  There  could  be  no  difficulty  in  that.  Every 
one  would  readily  believe  Daisy  to  be  that  child.  Who 
could  say  she  was  not?  Her  mother  had  known  few 
people  at  Deepdale,  and  they  were  never  likely  to  hear  of 
the  circumstances  again.  Possession,  in  this  case,  was 
more  than  nine  points  of  the  law.  She  had  the  ring,  the 
locket,  the  letters,  and,  above  all,  the  story.  She  need  not 
alter  one  word  of  it.  She  had  but  to  put  herself  in  Daisy’s 
place.  She  thought  over  everything  connected  with  the 
history*  of  Margaret  Arle  and  her  child,  and  could  not  find 
one  weak  point. 

‘ 6 After  all,”  she  said  to  herself,  as  the  voice  of  con- 
science tried  to  make  itself  heard,  “ what  does  it  matter? 
If  ever  Captain  Arthur  comes  to  light,  he  will  find  a 
daughter  to  be  proud  of,  and  I shall  make  a better  lady 
than  Daisy  ever  could.  To  deprive  him  of  a child  would 
be  very  different;  to  substitute  one  grown-up  girl  for 
another  can  not  matter  much.” 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Rita  went  to  Daisy,  and  call- 
ing her  gently,  roused  her  from  sleep.  The  young  maiden 


lord  lisle's  daughter. 


opened  her  eyes  in  wonder,  and  Rita  shrunk  from  the 
pure,  clear  glance. 

44  Do  not  be  angry,  Daisy;  I could  not  help  waking 
you.  You  are  going  back  to-morrow,  and  1 want  to  tell 
you  something  before  you  return." 

Daisy  looked  up  in  some  surprise. 

6 4 What  is  it,  dear?"  she  askod,  gently.  65  Are  you  in 
trouble,  or  have  you  a secret?" 

Rita  flushed  as  she  exclaimed  hoarsely: 

44  It  is  r secret;  one  that  concerns  myself.  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

44  A seoitet?"  said  Daisy,  raising  her  clear,  truthful  eyes 
to  Rita’s  face.  44 1 did  not  think  we  had  one  in  our  home!" 

44  It  is  a secret,"  continued  the  elder  girl,  44  that  the 
world  would  never  suspect.  I,  the  one  concerned,  never 
dreamed  of  it.  Daisy,  can  you  believe  that  I was  not  Mrs. 
Rivers's  own  child?" 

44  Not  our  mother’s  own  child?"  said  Daisy,  incred- 
ulously. 44  It  is  impossible — it  can  not  be  true!" 

“It  is  a fact,"  said  Rita.  44  The  night  before  my 
poor  nurse  died  she  sent  every  one  away  from  the  room 
and  told  me  the  story. " 

44  Who  are  you,  then?"  cried  Daisy.  44  Why,  Rita,  I 
can  not  believe  it!  You  must  be  my  own  sister — you  are 
dreaming!" 

44  Nay,  it  is  no  dream,"  said  Rita.  44  See,  here  are 
the  proofs.  Yet  I shall  always  be  your  sister  and  love 
you  very  much.  I shall  always  do  my  best  for  you. " 

The  faint  inflection  of  patronage  in  the  rich,  musical 
tones  was  not  lost  upon  Daisy.  Something  like  pain 
flitted  over  her  features  and  shadowed  the  tender  eyes. 

44  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Rita,"  she  said,  imploringly. 
44  How  can  it  be?  Why,  my  mother  always  seemed  to  Jove 
you  better  than  me!" 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


39 


44  No,”  said  Eita,  in  alarm,  4\that  could  not  be.  Did 
it  never  strike  you  how  much  more  anxious  she  seemed  over 
your  education  than  over  mine?  There  is  little  to  tell;  the 
story  is  a very  simple  one.  Your  mother,  when  quite  a 
young  girl,  was  my  mother’s  nurse.  It  seems  that  my 
mother’s  parents  were  once  very  rich  people,  but  lost  al] 
they  had.  Her  father  died,  and  she  herself,  after  receiving 
an  excellent  training,  went  out  as  governess./  The  place 
where  she  went  was  called  Hurst  Hall,  1 believe.  While 
there,  some  gentleman  fell  in  love  with  her  and  married 
her.  But,  Daisy,  the  marriage  was  a secret  one.  He  was 
brought  up  by  rich,  aristocratic  relations,  who  would  not 
hear  of  such  a thing;  so  he  married  my  mother,  Margaret 
Arle,  unknown  to  every  one.” 

44  But  who  was  he?”  interrupted  Daisy. 

“Ah!  would  that  I could  tell  you!”  was  the  calm 
reply.  4 4 My  mother  trusted  yours,  but  she  never  told  her 
that.  All  she  said  of  my  father  was,  that  he  was  an  officer 
in  the  army.  She  called  him  4 Captain  Arthur.  ’ Captain 
Arthur  went  to  India,  leaving  my  mother  in  England. 
But  he  had  a serious  illness  there;  he  sent,  imploring  my 
mother  to  go  out  to  him.  The  doctor  said  the  journey 
would  cost  my  life.  My  poor  mother,  therefore,  resolved 
to  leave  me  behind  in  her  old  nurse’s  care.  She  took 
me  to  Deepdale,  our  old  home,  and  left  me  in  your  moth- 
er’s charge.” 

44  How  strange!”  said  Daisy;  44  it  seems  like  a romance 
or  a fairy  tale.” 

44  The  strangest  part  has  to  come,”  continued  Eita. 
44  My  mother  went  in  a ship  called  the  4 Ocean  Queen;’  it 
was  lost  at  sea;  and  from  the  day  she  left  me  until  the 
present  time  no  word  has  ever  been  heard  of  or  from  any 
friend  or  relation — no  one  seems  to  be  aware  of  my  exist- 
ence. My  father  has  never  written — has  never  claimed 
me;  either  he  is  dead,  or  he  does  not  know  where  I am.  I 
shall  never  believe  that  he  has  left  me  here,  and  willfully 


40 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


abandoned  me.  Tour  mother  told  me  all  this  on  the  night 
she  died;  she  gave  me  the  locket,  the  ring,  and  the  letters. 
How  strange  it  is,  Daisy!  1 do  not  even  know  my  own 
name.  My  mother  called  herself  ‘ Howard. * I shall 
take  that  name.  I am  4 Margaret  Howard;*  but  I never 
mean  to  rest  until  I have  found  my  father  or  his  rela- 
tions.** ' 

“ Then  we  shall  be  parted?**  said  Daisy,  sadly. 

“ That  does  not  follow.  When  I find  noble  and  wealthy 
relations  I shall  not  forget  you,  Daisy.** 

No  thought  of  wrong,  no  suspicion  that  the  artfully 
told  story  was  a false  one,  came  to  the  pure-minded 
Daisy;  nothing  warned  her  the  story  she  heard  with  won- 
der was  her  own;  that  her  rightful  place  was  usurped  by 
one  who  had  no  right  to  it;  that  her  name,  her  parents, 
her  identity  even,  was  stolen  from  her  by  the  proud,  am- 
bitious girl  she  had  loved  as  her  own  sister. 

They  talked  until  the  gray  dawn  of  morning  stole  into 
the  little  room;  Daisy  innocently  suggesting  plans  by  which 
Eita  could  discover  her  father *s  name;  Eita  wrapped  in 
glowing  dreams  of  what  the  future  might  bring  for  her. 

Daisy  returned  on  the  morning  following  to  school. 
Eita  remained  at  the  cottage  with  old  Mrs.  Feme.  She 
had  decided  upon  certain  plans,  but  did  not  intend  to  carry 
them  out  until  Ealph  Ashton  had  left  the  country. 

He  was  the  one  dark  spot  in  the  bright  future.  Al- 
ready she  had  thrown  off  her  allegiance  to  him  in  her  own 
mind:  she  had  freed  herself  from  a promise  that,  with  her 
new  prospects,  was  simply  hateful  to  her.  If  all  went  as 
she  dreamed  and  hoped,  high-born  gentlemen  would  sue 
for  her  hand.  With  her  glorious  dower  of  beauty,  with 
wealth  and  position,  it  would  be  folly,  she  'Said  to  herself, 
to  think  of  marrying  a man  like  Ealph.  She  gave  no 
thought  to  his  strong,  passionate  love — of  the  life  she  held 
in  her  hands;  but  no  word  of  all  this  did  she  say  to  her 
lover  when  he  came  to  bid  her  farewell. 


LOUD  LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 


41 


human  influence  went, 
Rita’s  destiny  was  settled.  There  was  no  longer  any  need 
for  meeting  her  lover  clandestinely.  She  told  him  to  call 
at  the  cottage,  and  say  “ good-bye  ” to  her  there.  When 
he  stood  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Feme  wondered  who  it 
was,  Rita,  in  her  calm,  grand  way,  said: 

“ It  is  an  old  friend,  going  to  sea,  and  he  has  called 
to  say  good-bye.  ” 

She  went  out  to  him  in  the  little  garden,  where  the 
June  roses  were  blooming,  and  the  tall,  white  lilies  showed 
their  golden  hearts. 

Ralph  Ashton  never  forgot  that  scene  in  the  quiet  even- 
ing gloaming;  he  never  forgot  the  expression  on  that 
proud,  beautiful  face,  as  he  spoke  in  words  so  passionate 
they  seemed  to  thrill  the  quiet  evening  air.  He  held  her 
hands  in  his  strong  grasp,  *and  made  her  again  take  the 
oath  that  he  believed  would  bind  her  to  him  forever;  and, 
under  the  light  of  the  evening  sky,  she  uttered  the  words 
that  for  her  had  ceased  to  have  any  meaning;  she  made 
the  vow  with  her  lips  that  in*  her  heart  she  intended  to 
break.  Not  one  word  did  she  say  to  Ralph  Ashton  of  the 
story  told  by  Mrs.  Rivers,  or  of  her  own  version  of  it. 
When  he  returned  in  three  years’  time,  he  would  hear 
that  she  had  left  Rooks’  Nest,  and  she  did  not  intend  or 
mean  him  to  trace  her.  She  believed  he  would  forget  her, 
or  give  up  all  pursuit  of  her  as  hopeless.  Even  should  he 
discover  her,  she  thought  the  change  in  her  position  would 
awe  him  and  convince  him  of  the  impassable  barrier  be- 
tween them. 

There  was  no  change  on  the  calm,  proud  face  upraised 
to  her  own,  as  the  young  sailor  spoke  those  words  that 
would  have  touched  another  heart.  While  he  spoke  of 
their  future,  the  happiness  in  store  for  them,  of  . his  pas- 
sionate love  and  devotion,  she  was  thinking  and  hoping 
they  would  never  stand  side  by  side  again. 

She  dare  not  utter  one  of  the  thoughts  that  filled  her 


n that  evening,  as  far  as 


42 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


mind;  the  dark,  handsome  face  that  gazed  so  lovingly 
into  her  own  could  have  worn  a look  that  would  have 
terrified  her.  She  was  brave  enough,  but  she  dare  not 
rouse  Ealph  Ashton  to  passion  or  anger.  She  felt,  as  they 
stood  there,  that  he  was  her  master — she  dare  not  defy, 
but  she  might  elude  him. 

“ In  three  years!"  Ealph  said.  “ Oh,  Eita,  how  shall 
I live  through  them?  There  will  be  no  one  moment  in 
which  I shall  not  think  of  you,  and  long  for  the  sound  of 
your  voice,  or  one  glimpse  of  your  face.  In  three  years  I 
shall  find  you  when  the  flowers  are  blooming  just  as  they 
bloom  now;  and  no  sun  will  be  so  bright  to  me  as  the  smile 
you  will  welcome  me  with,  when  I come  to  claim  you." 

If  Ealph  Ashton  could  have  foreseen  how  and  where 
he  would  find  her,  he  would  have  died  before  the  blow  came. 
To  the  last  hour  of  his  life  he  remembered  every  detail 
of  that  scene:  the  distant  chiming  of  the  waves,  the  musical 
voice  that  whispered  false  words,  the  magical  charms  of  the 
girl  he  loved,  the  fragrance  of  the  roses,  and  the  mellow 
evening  light. 

The  gloaming  passed,  and  the  gray  tints  of  night  grew 
deeper. 

“ Let  me  sit  with  you  one  hour  longer,  Eita,"  pleaded 
Ealph;  and  she  asked  him  into  the  cottage. 

“ You  must  give  me  a keepsake,"  he  said,  when  Mrs. 
Feme  plainly  hinted  that  it  was  growing  late;  4<  anything 
that  you  have  touched  and  cared  for  yourself." 

“ Give  him  something  that  will  do  him  good,  Eita," 
said  the  old  woman.  “ He  is  a young  man,  and  he  is  go- 
ing down  into  the  deep  seas.  It  will  do  him  no  harm  to 
remember  who  keeps  him  safe  in  the  midst  of  dangers." 

Ealph  smiled  at  the  words,  but  she  continued  earnestly: 

“ You  have  two  Bibles,  Eita.  One,  there,  your  poor 
mother  used  every  day.  There  is  another  lying  on  the 
shelf  there — give  him  that." 

Eita  silently  took  the  book  from  the  upper  shelf,  where  it 


LORD  LISLE?S  DAUGHTER.  48 

had  lain  for  many  long  years,  and  placed  it  in  Ralph’s 
hand. 

6 4 Read  it  when  you  are  on  the  seas,”  she  said,  gravely. 

He  took  it  from  her  without  a word  of  comment.  She 
was  all  unconscious  that,  at  Deepdale,  Mrs.  Rivers  had 
placed  little  Daisy’s  portrait  and  her  mother’s  last  letter 
there — the  letter  which  spoke  of  the  child’s  golden  curls, 
and  directed  again  that  she  should  be  called  Daisy;  all  un- 
conscious that  between  the  leaves  lay  the  portrait  of  a fair, 
graceful  child,  while  underneath  it,  in  her  mother’s  own 
handwriting,  were  the  two  words,  44  Daisy  Howard.” 

In  the  strongest  armor  there  is  generally  one  weak  point. 
Rita  had  made  good  her  story,  serenely  unconscious  of  the 
only  piece  of  evidence  that  could  ever  betray  her,  and  that 
evidence  she  had  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  man  she  in- 
tended to  dupe  and  elude. 

Ralph  thought  little  of  the  gift.  He  would  have  pre- 
ferred the  ribbon  she  wore  in  her  hair,  or  the  flower  that 
she  carried  in  her  hands.  He  took  the  book  home  with 
him,  and  laid  jt  in  his  sea-chest.  He  was  many  miles  away 
from  old  England  when  he  saw  it  again,  and  found  what 
it  contained. 

Even  that  vain,  ambitious  heart  was  touched  with  his 
sorrow  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  leave  her.  He 
clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  the  face  that  lured  him 
on  to  ruin  and  death.  Tears  dimmed  the  eyes  that  had 
seldom  wept  before.  For  long  hours  after  he  had  quitted 
her  his  warm  kisses  seemed  to  burn  her  lips  and  brows. 
She  was  touched  at  his  sorrow,  wondered  at  the  depth  of 
his  love,  but  never  dreamed  of  being  true  to  him.  When 
his  tall  figure  disappeared  down  the  high-road  she  felt  re- 
leased. He  had  faded  from  her  life,  she  thought,  and 
would  trouble  her  no  more. 

Two  days  afterward,  Daisy  came  home  with  strange  in- 
telligence. One  of  the  pupils  at  Miss  Toffies’s  academy— 
the  daughter  and  heiress  of  John  Denham,  of  Landsmeer 


44 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


■ — was  going  abroad,  and  nothing  would  satisfy  her  but 
taking  with  her,  as  companion,  the  fair,  gentle  girl  whom 
every  one  loved.  Mrs.  Denham  came  over  to  Queen’s 
Lynne,  and  urgently  pressed  Daisy  to  accede  to  her  daugh- 
ter’s wish.  Daisy  had  no  objection;  her  only  difficulty 
was  in  leaving  Eita.  The  change  from  the  dull  school- 
room to  such  a life  of  gayety  and  pleasure  as  Laura  Den- 
ham mapped  out,  was  delightful  enough.  She  liked  Mrs. 
Denham’s  high-bred,  graceful  manner,  so  different  to  the 
starched  propriety  of  Miss  Toffles;  she  asked.  Mrs.  Denham 
to  wait  a few  days  for  her  decision,  as  all  must  depend 
upon  Rita. 

Far  from  opposing  the  plan,  Rita  thought  it  the  best 
event  that  could  have  happened.  Daisy,  at  home,  might 
have  been  in  her  way;  but  Daisy,  abroad,  could  not  inter- 
fere with  her  arrangements.  By  all  means,  let  her  go. 

“ It  would  be  folly  to  remain  here  for  my  sake,”  said 
Rita.  “ I shall  not  be  here  long  myself.  In  a few  more 
weeks  1 intend  to  take  some  active  steps  for  discovering 
my  father’s  name  and  whereabouts.  If  I find  him,  this 
will  be  no  home  for  me.” 

“ I shall  always  love  it,”  said  Daisy,  gently. 

66  Quite  right,”  replied  Rita.  “ It  is  your  own;  but  it 
is  not  mine.” 

The  younger  girl  said  nothing;  she  felt  pained  and 
wounded.  Already  there  seemed  to  be  a boundless  differ- 
ence between  them.  Rita  assumed  a haughty,  patronizing 
manner  that  grieved  the  other’s  tender,  sensitive  heart. 

In  less  than  two  months  after  Mrs.  Rivers’s  death,  Daisy, 
had  left  England,  and  Rita  was  wondering  what  should  be 
her  first  step.  Ralph  was  far  on  his  voyage,  and  the  only 
proof  of  the  identity  of  Captain  Arthur’s  daughter  was 
with  him. 

Daisy  was  happy.  The  Denhams  intended  remaining 
on  the  Continent  for  three  years,  and  during  that  time  she 
was  to  be  the  friend  and  companion  of  their  only  child. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


45 


The  June  roses  were  blooming  when  Ralph  Ashton  bade 
farewell  to  the  girl  he  loved  so  deeply  and  dearly.  She 
began  then  to  arrange  her  plans;  but  before  the  roses  had 
faded,  fate  had  taken  the  threads  into  her  own  hand. 
There  was  no  need  for  the  beautiful,  ambitious  girl  to 
• scheme  and  arrange;  the  father  whom  she  intended  to  seek 
was  seeking  her,  and  the  tragedy  of  her  life  began. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Lisles,  of  Lisle  Court,  stood  foremost  in  the  ranks 
of  English  nobility..  They  had  served  their  country  well, 
both  in  senate  and  on  the  battle-field.  Time  had  been 
when  the  English  Court  had  no  greater  favorites  than  the 
lords  of  Lisle.  Far  back  as  the  reign  of  Stephen,  one 
found  their  name  in  the  annals  of  history — a Lisle  fought 
for  Matilda,  and  never  quite  yielded  .allegiance  to  King 
Stephen.  A Lisle  joined  the  Crusades,  and  was  well  loved 
by  the  lion-hearted  king.  Huldebrand  Lisle  fell  at  Ban- 
nockburn, and  Bertram  helped  to  win  the  victory  of 
Poictiers.  Vyviene  died  on  Flodden  Field,  and  Hubert 
figured  as  one  of  Henry  the  Eighths  best  counselors.  The 
doomed  race  of  the  Royal  Stuarts  had  no  truer  friends  than 
the  Lisles,  of  Lisle  Court.  The  bed-chamber  where 
“Bonnie  Prince  Charlie”  slept  remains  untouched. 
When  the  last  Stuart  ceased  to  reign,  their  interest  in  pub- 
lic life  seemed  to  end.  Lord  Archibald  Lisle,  during  the 
reign  of  George  the  Second,  gave  up  his  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  devoted*  himself  to  the  care  of  his  estate.  In 
all  England  there  stands  no  fairer  domain  than  Lisle 
Court.  It  lies  in  the  fertile  midland  counties — in  the 
quiet,  green  heart  of  the  land.  Wide  streams  flow  through 
it;  dark,  belted  woods  shade  and  shelter  it;  rich  meadows 
and  golden  corn  fields  surround  it.  In  the  far  distance, 
Glenn . Forest  gives  to  the  calm  scenery  the  picturesque 
aspect  not  common  in  old  England. 


46 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


The  Hall  itself  is  a grand  old  building,  comprising  every 
style  of  architecture  in  vogue  since  the  reign  of  Stephen — 
gable-ends,  deep  oriel  windows,  towers,  and  turrets.  The 
broad  portico  still  stands  where  Lord  Douglas  Lisle  knelt, 
with  his  fair  young  wife,  to  welcome  the  “ Merrie  Mon- 
arch. " Ancient  and  modern  time  seem  strangely  mingled., 
at  Lisle  Court. 

Cheerful,  modern  rooms,  with  long  French  windows, 
look  over  the  garden,  where  tall  fountains  play  among 
fragrant  flowers.  Every  modern  luxury  is  there,  every 
late  improvement,  every  new  design  that  can  add  either  to 
pleasure,  luxury,  or  comfort.  One  also  sees  state-rooms, 
untouched  since  royal  faces  smiled  there. 

In  the  long  picture-gallery  hang  portraits  of  all  the  lords 
of  Lisle — not  one  is  missing.  Fair-faced,  haughty  dames 
are  there  also.  Sybilla  Lisle,  whose  sweet,  modest  grace, 
and  tender,  spiritual  face  charmed  the  “ Merrie  Mon- 
arch," is  by  the  side  of  her  loyal  husband. 

Lord  Eonald  Lisle,  the  last  baron,  married  young;  he 
had  two  sons,  bright,  handsome  boys,  and  then  his  wife 
died.  He  loved  her  memory  too  well  ever  to  take  a second 
wife.  From  the  time  of  her  death,  he  devoted  himself  to 
his  children.  He  was  a proud,  fastidious  man— proud  to 
excess  of  his  name  and  lineage,  honestly  believing  the 
Lisles  second  to  none.  The  bare  idea  of  a mesalliance  was 
hateful  to  him.  Poor  relations  he  considered  one  of  the 
greatest  afflictions  that  could  befall  any  family.  When  his 
sister  married  Lionel  Wyverne,  the  younger  son  of  a poor 
baronet,  his  anger  knew  no  bounds.  Lionel  Wyverne, 
whose  only  fortune  consisted  in  a handsome,  aristocratic 
face  and  some  two  hundred  per  annum,  struggled  for  a few 
years  with  poverty  and  a delicate  wife;  he  died  then,  tired 
of  the  world  and  its  coldness.  Lord  Lisle  had  no  resource 
save  to  fetch  his  sister  and  her  only  child,  Arthur,  to  Lisle 
Court.  He  adopted  his  nephew,  treating  him  in  every  re- 
spect as  one  of  his  own  children.  He  educated  him  with 


LORD  LISLE*  S DAUGHTER. 


47 


his  sons;  and  when  his  college  career  ended,  purchased  for 
him  a commission  in  a “ crack  ” regiment.  When  Cap- 
tain Arthur  Wyverne  came  to  his  uncle,  and  told  him  he 
bad  fallen  in  love  with,  and  wanted  to  marry  a pretty, 
penniless  governess.  Lord  Lisle  laughed  in  contemptuous 
anger.  He  was  deaf  to  the  young  man’s  pleading  and 
earnest  supplication.  He  grew  white  with  anger  when 
Captain  Wyverne  persisted,  and  declared  his  inviolable 
resolution  to  marry  Margaret  Arle.  Lord  Lisle  asked  him 
if  he  knew  at  what  cost. 

“ Not  only,”  he  said,  “ will  I refuse  to  see  you  again, 
and  withdraw  from  you  all  countenance  and  support,  but 
your  mother,  too,  must  suffer  for  you.  If  you  persist  in 
this  absurd  folly,  she  must  leave  Lisle  Court,  and  you 
know  what  suffering  that  would  inflict  upon  her.  Let  me 
hear  no  more  of  it,  Arthur;  boyish  fancies  are  soon  for- 
gotten. ” 

Captain  Wyverne  paused  then.  For  himself,  he  could 
have  endured  anything;  but  the  thought  of  his  delicate 
mother,  sent  adrift  from  the  home  she  valued  so  much, 
where  every  luxury  was  at  her  command,  quelled  him. 
She  had  suffered  enough;  for  no  love  or  fancy  could  he 
give  her  what  he  believed  would  be  a death-blow. 

He  said  no  more  to  Lord  Lisle.  After  some  weeks  of 
anxious  debate,  he  compromised  the  matter  by  a private 
marriage,  as  already  detailed. 

Captain  Wyverne  was  the  more  tenacious  over  his  secret, 
as  his  mother,  to  whom  Lord  Lisle  repeated  the  whole  con- 
versation daily,  almost  hourly,  implored  of  him  never  to 
offend  his  uncle. 

“ It  would  kill  me,  Arthur,”  she  said,  “ to  leave  Lisle 
Court  now!  I have  grown  accustomed  to  luxury!  1 could 
never  renew  the  old  struggle  with  genteel  poverty  and 
limited  means.” 

Then  he  looked  upon  her  pale,  delicate  face.  He  knew 
she  spoke  truly;  so  Captain  Wyverne  guarded  his  secret  as 


48 


LORD  LISLE  S DAUGHTER. 


he  guarded  his  life.  He  impressed  the  importance  ot 
secrecy  so  strongly  upon  his  wife,  that,  as  we  have  seen, 
even  to  the  nurse  she  intrusted  with  her  child,  she  never 
breathed  his  name. 

One  brief  year,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  and  then  a dark 
cloud  fell  over  the  happy  home.  Captain  Wyverne’s  regi- 
ment was  ordered  to  India,  and  neither  wife  nor  child  was 
strong  enough  to  accompany  him. 

He  never  forgot  the  agony  of  that  parting  hour,  how  his 
wife  clung  round  him,  the  warm  tears  falling  on  his  face. 
He  never  forgot  the  parting  words,  in  which  she  told  him 
how  dearly  she  loved  him,  and  thanked  him  for  his  kind- 
ness and  his  love.  He  wept,  as  men  seldom  weep,  when 
he^  kissed,  for  the  last  time,  the  fair,  sweet  face  he  was 
never  to  see  again. 

Margaret  laid  the  little  one  in  his  arms.  He  could  not 
see  down  the  long  vista  of  years.  He  never  dreamed  that 
the  cold,  cruel  sea  would  hide  from  him  forever  the  loving 
wife  whose  kisses  and  tears  were  warm  upon  his  face.  He 
could  not  foresee  how  treachery,  ambition,  and  vanity 
would,  for  long  years,  make  the  little  daughter  he  loved  a 
stranger  to  him. 

Then  came  his  illness,  and  his  urgent  request  that  his 
wife  would  join  him  in  far-off  India.  How  anxiously  he 
awaited  her  arrival,  may  be  well  imagined.  But,  instead, 
there  came  to  him,  on  his  sick-bed,  the  fatal  tidings.  The 
vessel  was  lost,  and  all  on  board  had  perished  with  her. 

In  after  years,  he  never  knew  how  he  had  lived  through 
the  misery  of  that  time.  At  first  he  hoped  that  something 
might  have  prevented  his  wife  from  going  in  the  doomed 
ship.  But  in  the  printed  list  of  the  dead,  he  saw  her 
name,  ‘ 4 Margaret  Howard.”  The  papers  mentioned  her 
as  a beautiful  young  lady,  going  to  join  her  husband  in 
India.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it;  she  was  lost, 
and  the  tender  face  he  had  longed  to  see  would  never  smile 
on  him  again. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


49 


For  many  long  weeks  Captain  Wyverne  forgot  his  sor- 
row in  insensibility.  When  health  and  reason  returned, 
his  first  thought  ivas  of  his  child — Margaret's  child.  What 
had  become  of  her?  The  little  one  had  evidently  been  left 
behind,  for  there  was  no  mention  of  her  in  the  passengers' 
list.  With  whom  had  she  been  left?  How  should  he  find 
her?  During  the  long,  weary  hours  of  convalescence,  the 
young  officer  lay  pondering  these  questions.  Surely,  in 
England,  there  must  be  some  clew.  Some  one  there  must 
know  the  whereabouts  of  Margaret's  child.  He  wrote  to 
Mrs.  Markham,  in  whose  house  his  wife  had  lodged,  but 
the  letter  was  never  answered. 

He  could  not  recover;  his  mind  and  heart  were  both 
tortured.  At  length,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a few 
months'  leave  of  absence,  and  returned  home. 

His  mother,  when  she  gazed  upon  his  face,  did  not  know 
her  own  son.  The  white,  haggard  features  and  dim,  sad- 
dened eyes  told  of  more  than  physical  suffering. 

Once  more  in  England,  he  commenced  a life-long  search 
for  his  lost  child.  How  could  he  best  find  out  to  whom 
Margaret  had  intrusted  her? 

On  the  first  day  of  his  return,  he  went  to  the  house 
where  she  had  lodged.  Then  he  found  out  Mrs.  Markham 
had  gone  to  America;  but  no  one  could  tell  him  where,  or 
to  what  part  of  that  vast  country.  One  of  the  neighbors, 
who  .remembered  the  lady  and  the  child,  told  him  they 
both  left  the  house  a week  before  Mrs.  Markham  went 
away;  so  that,  evidently,  the  child  had  not  been  left  with 
her.  By  dint  of  great  expense  and  trouble  in  advertising, 
the  cabman  was  found  who  had  driven  the  lady  and  the 
little  one  to  the  station.  He  remembered  every  detail,  but 
he  could  not  say  where  she  was  going;  he  had  not  re- 
marked the  direction  upon  the  box.  It  seemed  to  Cap- 
tain Wyverne  that  every  trace  of  little  Margaret  was  lost. 


50 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Captain  Wyverne  did  not  search  alone  lor  his  lost 
chill;  he  employed  the  keenest,  cleverest  detective  in  Eng- 
land to  assist;  he  advertised  in  all  the  papers,  briefly  stating 
the  circumstances,  and  offering  a handsome  reward  for  any 
one  who  could  tell  him  where  the  child  had  been  placed. 
But  a silence  like  the  cold,  long  silence  of  death  seemed  to 
have  fallen  over  little  Margaret.  Mrs.  Rivers,  in  her  quite 
home  at  Deepdale,  never  saw  any  papers;  not  one  of  the 
many  advertisements  ever  came  under  her  notice. 

Driven  almost  to  despair.  Captain  Wy verne  told  the 
secret  to  his  terrified  mother.  Her  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment were  great;  she  quite  believed,  poor  lady,  that  her 
son  had  forgotten  his  44  foolish  love  affair,”  and  now,  he 
told  her,  not  only  had  he  been  married  and  lost  his  beau- 
tiful young  wife,  but  he  was  over  in  England  purposely  to 
find  the  child  so  strangely  lost. 

Her  first  cry  was  one  of  earnest  supplication  that  he 
would  keep  the  secret  from  Lord  Lisle. 

44  Of  course  I shall,  mother,”  he  replied.  46  Would  to 
Heaven  1 had  told  him  before,  and  had  taken  my  darling 
with  me!  It  is  I who  have  murdered  her  by  my  cowardice 
and  cruelty  in  hurrying  her  over  to  India.  There  is  no 
use  telling  my  uncle  now.  Have  no  fear,  mother;  help 
me  to  find  my  child.” 

But  Mrs.  Wy  verne  could  suggest  nothing. 

44  Margaret,”  she  said,  44  must  have  left  the  child  with 
some  one,”  but  she  could  not  tell  how  that  some  one  was 
to  be  discovered.  Strange  to  say,  she  had  read  some  of 
the  advertisements,  and  had  wondered  who  it  was  that  so 
earnestly  sought  a lost  child.  The  name,  Margaret  How- 
ard, was  new  to  her;  least  of  all  did  she  dream  that  the 
poor  lady  lost  in  the  44  Ocean  Queen  ” was  her  son's  wife. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


51 


All  over  England  the  advertisements  were  read,  and 
many  comments  were  made  upon  them.  They  told  so 
pathetic  a story  that  many  were  anxious  to  join  in  the 
search  lor  the  child. 

“ A lady — Mrs.  Margaret  Howard,  of  11  Linden  Street, 
Regent’s  Park — sailed  in  the  * Ocean  Queen,5  to  join  her 
husband,  who  was  then  dangerously  ill,  in  India.  Before 
leaving  she  placed  a little  girl  out  to  nurse;  the  father  is 
now  in  England,  anxiously  seeking  information  as  to  the 
child’s  whereabouts,  as  its  mother  was  lost  at  sea,  and  no 
clew,  even,  can  be  found  of  the  person  who  has  charge 
of  it.” 

In  many  a happy  English  home  this  advertisement  was 
read;  the  dates  were  carefully  inserted,  but  no  reply  ever 
came.  The  six  months’  leave  of  absence  ended,  and  Cap- 
tain Wyverne  returned  to  India,  broken-hearted  at  the  loss 
of  his  child. 

He  did  not  abandon  the  search;  every  year  he  sent  re- 
mittances to  the  detective,  who  had  the  business  in  hand; 
his  mother,  too,  promised  to  do  her  best. 

Twelve  years  passed,  and  never  once  during  the  course 
of  them  did  one  iota  of  intelligence  gladden  his  heart. 

He  grew  at  length  to  believe  that  she  was  dead. 

Life  had  no  pleasures  for  him.  He  never  ceased  to 
mourn  for  the  loving,  gentle  wife  who  slept  beneath  the 
waves — he  never  ceased  to  reproach  himself  for  having  sent 
for  her.  By  so  doing,  he  had  lost  both  his  treasures.  He 
thought  of  her  unceasingly,  picturing  to  himself  how  she 
looked;  what  she  would  be  like  if  she  still  lived;  had  she 
Margaret’s  sweet  face  and  soft,  dark  hair. 

At  length  a change  came  in  his  fortunes.  An  accident 
happened  that  created  a sensation  in  the  great  world. 
Lord  Lisle  and  his  two  sons,  who  had  gone  on  the  Conti- 
nent together,  were  drowned  in  the  Lake  of  Como.  No 
one  knew  exactly  how  the  accident  had  happened.  There 


83 


LORD  LISLE  *S  DAUGHTER. 


had  been  a sudden  gust  of  wind — a sudden  upheaving  of 
the  cleep,  blue  waters.  Those  who  waited  for  them  on 
shore  saw  the  gentlemen  struggle  for  some  time  with  the 
waves.  The  boatmen  saved  themselves,  but  the  English 
“ milords/*  none  of  them  good  swimmers,  sunk,  and  were 
lost  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts  made  to  save  them. 

It  was  more  than  a nine-days*  wonder.  People  could 
not  forget  it.  The  father,  still  a handsome  man,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  lost  with  his  sons,  two  fine,  promising  young 
men!  The  tragedy  seemed,  for  a few  days,  to  spread  a 
gloom  through  all  England. 

The  papers  were  loud  in  praise  of  the  deceased  noble- 
man. The  title  and  estate  devolved,  they  said,  upon  Cap- 
tain Arthur  Wyverne,  now  serving  in  India.  He,  the  nep- 
hew, and  next  of  kin  to  the  dead  lord,  was  his  heir  at  law. 

The  news  came  to  him,  but  it  brought  nothing  but  sad- 
ness. He  had  loved  the  bright,  gay-hearted  cousins,  with 
whom  his  childhood  had  been  spent.  He  felt  a grateful 
liking  for  Lord  Lisle,  despite  the  one  great  quarrel  and  its 
consequences.  He  would  far  rather  they  had  lived,  and 
he  remained  Captain  Wyverne.  His  interest  in  all  that 
concerned  the  world  seemed  dead.  He  might  have  re- 
turned to  England  years  ago,  but  he  did  not  care  to  do  so. 
He  might  have  gained  position  and  rank,  but  he  cared 
nothing  for  them — all  energy  and  hope  seemed  to  have 
died  in  him. 

But  whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  Lord  Lisle  was  obliged 
to  hasten  home.  He  had  many  painful  duties  to  perform. 
He  went  to  Italy  himself  and  superintended  the  removal  of 
the  three  bodies  to  England.  The  whole  country-side  were 
present  at  the  magnificent  funeral  he  arranged.  He  com- 
plied with  every  injunction  found  in  his  uncle*s  will — that 
will  which  mentioned  so  proudly  and  lovingly  the  two 
brave  sons  who  now  slept  with  him.  Legacies  were  paid 
to  old  servants  and  dear  friends.  All  this  was  done  before 


LORD  LISTENS  DAUGHTER.  53 

Lord  Lisle  paused  and  realized  to  himself  the  great  change 
in  his  life. 

The  first  question  he  asked  them  startled  the  lawyers: 
“ Who  was  his  heir? — for  he  never  intended  marrying.” 

They  told  him  Philip  Lisle,  a second  cousin  of  the  late 
lord — a young  man  still  at  Oxford. 

Lord  Lisle  desired  that  he  should  come  to  Lisle  Court  at 
once.  He  wished  him  for  the  future  to  reside  there. 

“But,  my  dear  Arthur,”  remonstrated  Mrs.  Wyverne, 
now  the  proud,  happy  mistress  of  the  Court,  “ you  are 
young  still.  You  will  surely  marry.  There  are  many  fair 
and  noble  ladies  in  England  who  would  gladly  call  them- 
selves Lady  Lisle. ” 

“ 1 shall  never  marry,  mother,”  he  replied,  with  a grave 
smile,  “ my  heart  and  my  love  lie  buried  with  Margaret. 
I died  with  her  in  one  sense.  Life  has  been  all  dark  to  me 
since.” 

“You  should  try  to  forget  that  dismal  story,”  said  his 
mother,  anxiously.  “ Something  is  due  to  your  rank  in 
life;  something  is  due  to  me.  Am  1 never  to  hold  a child 
of  yours  in  my  arms  or  know  the  happiness  of  loving  your 
wife?” 

“Hush,  mother,”  he  said,  gently;  “ you  torture  me. 
My  wife  is  sleeping  where  the  restless  waves  chant  her  re- 
quiem. My  child  is  lost.  Oh,  if  it  should  please  Heaven 
that  I may  one  day  find  her,  1 shall  live  again.” 

She  opposed,  his  wish  no  longer,  and  Philip  Lisle,  the 
heir  of  Lisle  Court,  came  to  dwell  with  his  kinsman. 

He  was  a bright,  handsome  youth,  with  a clear,  true 
Saxon  face  and  fair  hair,  honest,  laughing  eyes,  and  a smile 
of  singular  sweetness.  His  disposition  was  charming  and 
open  as  his  face.  Loyal  and  true,  honorable  and  chival- 
rous, he  detested  all  things  false  and  mean;  he  would  have 
preferred  death  to  dishonor,  torture  to  disgrace. 

Lord  Lisle  soon  loved  his  young  kinsman.  He  trusted 


54 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


him,  relied  upon  him,  and,  above  all,  he  liked  telling 
Philip  the  story  of  his  44  two  pearls.” 

It  seemed  to  him  impossible  that  Lord  Lisle’s  daughter 
should  be  lost,  and  the  unhappy  father  loved  the  very 
sound  of  the  young  voice  that  prophesied  he  would  one  day 
see  his  child  again.  By  Philip’s  advice  the  advertisements 
were  resumed,  the  reward  was  doubled,  and  something  like 
hope  woke  once  more  in  Lord  Lisle’s  heart. 

One  morning  in  May,  as  Philip  Lisle  stood  debating 
whether  he  should  ride  or  walk  over  to  Eushton  Hall,  the 
old  butler  came  hurriedly  up  to  him. 

44  Lord  Lisle  wishes  to  see  you  at  once,  sir,”  said  the  old 
man.  44  He  is  in  the  library,  and  begged  you  would  not 
lose  a moment.  ” 

Philip  turned  hastily  away.  At  the  door  of  the  library 
he  stood  for  some  few  seconds  lost  in  wonder  at  the  scene. 
Lord  Lisle  lay  back  in  his  chair,  white  and  trembling; 
Mrs.  Wyverne  stood  near  him,  a look  of  great  excitement 
on  her  face  and  tears  shining  in  her  eyes.  A strange  man, 
with  a clever,  shrewd  countenance,  whom  Philip  had  never 
seen  before,  ceased  speaking  as  he  entered  the  room. 

44  My  dear  uncle,”  cried  Philip — who  invariably  ad- 
dressed Lord  Lisle  by  that  title — 44  what  is  the  matter? 
Are  you  ill?” 

44  Philip,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  earnestly,  with  quivering 
lips,  44  thank  God  for  me!  My  daughter  is  found!” 

44  Found!”  cried  the  young  man.  44  Is  it  possible?” 

44  We  have  traced  her,”  said  the  stranger.  44  We  know 
now  where  she  was  left.  We  can  not  say  if  she  is  still 
there.” 

44  This  is  Mr.  Braye,  the  detective  officer,”  said  Lord 
Lisle,  turning  to  Philip.  44  Tell  Mr.  Lisle  all  you  have 
told  me,”  he  added,  to  him. 

44  It  is  not  much,  sir,”  said  the  man;  44  but  little  as  it 
is,  it  means  that  Miss  Lisle  is  found.  Last  week  a woman 


LOUD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


55 


waited  upon  me,  saying  she  had  read  the  advertisement  and 
could  give  the  information  required.  Her  name  is  Mrs. 
Markham.  Seventeen  years  ago  she  lived  at  No.  11  Lin- 
den Street,  Regent’s  Park.  Apartments  in  her  house  were 
engaged  by  a gentleman  calling  himself  Mr.  Howard,  who 
was  going  to  India,  and  leaving  his  wife  and  child  in  Lon- 
don. Mrs.  Howard  remained  with  her  until  urgent  letters 
from  India  summoned  her  to  join  her  husband.  Mrs. 
Howard  begged  her — Mrs.  Markham — to  undertake  the 
charge  of  her  little  girl  during  her  absence.  She  was 
obliged  to  decline,  as  all  arrangements  had  been  made  for 
her  to  join  her  brother  in  America.  Mrs.  Howard  then 
resolved  to  leave  the  little  one  with  some  woman  who  had 
been  her  own  nurse,  and  the  name  of  the  woman  was  Susan 
Rivers.  She  lived  at  Deepdale,  in  Devonshire.  Mrs. 
Markham  with  her  own  hands  wrote  the  address  on  the 
box  containing  the  child’s  clothes.  Mrs.  Howard  left  her 
house  and  took  the  child  to  Deepdale. 

“ I told  the  woman  to  come  again  in  a week’s  time.  I 
wished  to  spare  Lord  Lisle  the  pain  of  suspense.  By  that 
night’s  mail  I started  for  Deepdale.  It  is  a little  place, 
quite  out  of  the  world,  looking  as  though  it  had  been 
asleep  for  many  years — quiet,  calm,  and  unknown.  There 
1 made  all  possible  inquiries,  and  found  that  Susan  Rivers 
had  lived  in  Rosemary  Cottage;  that  she  had  two  children, 
called  Daisy  and  Margaret,  one  of  whom  was  her  own 
child;  the  other  is  supposed  to  have  been  what  the  village 
people  call  a 4 nurse  child.  ’ Many  years  ago  this  same 
Susan  Rivers  left  Deepdale  and  went  to  a place  called 
Queen’s  Lynne,  in  Norfolk.  She  may  be  living  there 
now.” 

44 1 always  guessed  it  would  be  so,  uncle,”  cried  Philip. 
“ People  can  not  lose  each  other  long  in  a small  country 
like  England.  What  is  to  be  done  next?” 

44  The  woman,  Mrs.  Markham,  is  here,  my  lord,”  said 
the  detective.  44  She  only  returned  from  America  three 


56  LORD  lisle's  daughter. 

weeks  since*  and  applied  to  me  at  once  when  she  saw  tL^ 
advertisement." 

“ I will  see  her  now,"  said  Lord  Lisle;  “ let  her  come 
In." 

A deadly  pallor  came  over  his  grave*  patient  face  when 
he  saw  her.  It  seemed  to  him  something  like  receiving  a 
message  from  his  lost  wife.  The  woman  greeted  him  re- 
spectfully* but  some  minutes  passed  before  he  could  speak 
to  her. 

At  Lord  Lisle's  wish  they  all  withdrew*  leaving  him 
alone  with  Mrs.  Markham.  He  wanted  to  ask  a thousand 
questions  about  those  few  last  months  when  his  “two 
pearls  " had  lived  without  him;  he  wanted  every  detail  of 
those  last  hours  when  Margaret  parted  with  the  little  child 
she  loved  so  dearly  for  his  sake. 

As  he  listened  the  present  faded  from  him.  He  stood 
once  more  with  his  wife's  loving  arms  clasped  round  his 
neck;  her  sweet  face*  wet  with  tears*  raised  to  his.  It  was 
no  shame  to  his  manhood  that  when  the  woman  had  told 
all  she  knew  he  laid  his  face  upon  his  hands  and  wept  bit- 
terly. 

“I  remember  so  well*"  continued  Mrs.  Markham* 
“ that  the  poor  young  lady  told  me  there  was  no  time  and 
no  need  for  writing  to  you*  my  lord;  that  when  she  saw 
you  she  could  tell  you  all  about  Nurse  Rivers.  Of  course 
she  could  not  foresee  what  was  to  happen.  She  had  no 
thought  of  finding  her  death  in  the  cold  seas," 

“ If  I recover  my  child,  Mrs.  Markham*"  said  Lord 
Lisle*  “ 1 will  make  you  a rich  woman  for  life." 

“ What  is  to  be  done  next,  uncle?"  asked  Philip,  as  he 
re-entered  the  library. 

“You  must  start  for  Queen's  Lynne  at  once,"  said 
Lord  Lisle.  “ I can  not  go*  Philip,  my  nerves  are  all  un- 
strung. Take  Mr.  Braye  with  you*  and — Stay,  our 
family  lawyer  should  eo,  too.  Send  at  once  for  Mr.  Kent. 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  57 

if  all  goes  well,,  let  me  know  soon;  if  there  should  be  an- 
other disappointment  it  would  kill  me.” 

That  same  evening  three  gentlemen  started  for  Queen’s 
Lynne,  and  his  mother,  who  remained  with  Lord  Lisle, 
almost  feared  for  his  reason,  his  suspense  and  anxiety  were 
so  great. 

“ I have  often  wished  for  oblivion  before,”  he  said. 
“ I wish  for  it  again.  4 4 Oh,  mother,  would  to  Heaven  I 
could  sleep  until  my  eyes  opened  to  see  Margaret’s  child!” 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  was  the  close  of  a warm  summer’s  afternoon  when 
the  three  gentlemen  reached  Queen’s  Lynne.  They  had 
talked  during  the  whole  of  their  journey  of  the  strange 
circumstances  under  which  Lord  Lisle’s  daughter  had  for 
so  many  years  been  lost. 

The  lawyer,  Mr.  Kent,  told  of  another  case  he  had 
known  wherein  the  circumstances  were  somewhat  similar, 
and  the  loss  of  the  young  heiress  during  many  years  led  to 
a lawsuit  that  even  yet  was  not  ended. 

Philip  Lisle  listened  and  replied,  but  his  thoughts  were 
with  the  unknown  cousin  they  were  going  to  seek.  What 
would  she  be  like?  For  Lord  Lisle’s  sake  he  hoped  she 
would  resemble  the  dead  wife  he  mourned  so  deeply.  If 
she  should  be  vulgar  or  uneducated,  what  would  his  uncle 
do?  Lord  Lisle  himself  was  one  of  the  best  bred  and  most 
refined  men  in  England.  How  could  he  tolerate  a coarse, 
vulgar  girl  always  near  him? 

Philip  Lisle  had  a warm  and  sincere  affection  for  the 
kinsman  who  had  acted  so  liberally  toward  him.  He  had 
grown  intensely  interested  in  the  tragic  love  story  that  had 
thrown  so  deep  a shadow  over  Lord  Lisle’s  life.  He  felt 
nervous  and  uneasy  as  they  drew  near  the  end  of  their 
journey;  a hundred  misgivings  seized  him.  He  would 
rather  return  to  Lord  Lisle  and  tell  him  his  daughter  lay 


58 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


dead  than  take  back  with  him  some  coarse,  vulgar  girl, 
who  would  be  a constant  source  of  pain  and  sorrow  to  all 
connected  with  her. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  Queen’s  Lynne  his  compan- 
ions saw  that  Philip  Lisle’s  handsome  face  had  grown  pale; 
he  was  silent  and  thoughtful,  feeling  more  nervous  than 
he  had  ever  done  in  his  life. 

Their  first  enterprise  was  to  secure  a good  dinner  at  the 
Albion  Hotel,  after  which  the  three  gentlemen  started  to- 
gether in  quest  of  the  woman  who  had  charge  of  Lord 
Lisle’s  daughter. 

For  a long  time  they  were  unsuccessful.  The  name  of 
Susan  Rivers  did  not  appear  to  be  known  at  all,  and  a 
shade  of  uneasiness  passed  over  the  detective’s  face.  An 
inquiry  at  the  post-office  reassured  them;  Susan  Rivers  had 
lived  at  a place  called  Rooks’  Nest.  She  was  dead  and 
buried,  but  her  daughter  still  lived  at  the  cottage. 

They  walked  in  silence  to  the  place,  each  one  thinking 
more  of  the  anxious  father  at  home  than  of  the  young  girl 
they  were  going  to  see. 

Philip  Lisle  never  forgot  that  night — the  splendor  of  the 
evening  sky — the  fragrance  of  the  purple  heather— -the 
distant  sighing  of  the  waves,  and  the  solemn  quiet  of  the 
summer  night.  The  sunbeams  still  played  over  the  sea. 
Suddenly  turning  a corner  of  the  road,  they  saw  before 
them  a pretty  cottage,  surrounded  by  a fair  and  pleasant 
flower  garden. 

“ This  is  Rooks’  Nest,”  said  Mr.  Kent  to  Philip  Lisle. 

“ I suppose  so,”  he  replied.  “ The  misery  or  happiness 
of  Lord  Lisle’s  life  depends  on  what  we  find  here.” 

The  three  gentlemen  looked  agitated  as  they  stood 
awaiting  the  opening  of  the  door.  In  answer  to  their  sum- 
mons an  elderly  woman  appeared,  who  dropped  a deep 
courtesy  and  looked  in  much  wonder  at  the  unusual  num- 
ber of  visitors. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  59 

Mr.  Kent,  stepping  forward,  took  upon  himself  the 
office  of  spokesman. 

44  We  are  here  for  the  purpose  of  making  inquiries/’  he 
said.  44  We  have  been  xcld  that  Susan  Rivers,  whom  we 
came  to  see,  is  dead,  but  that  her  daughter  lives  here  still. 
Can  we  see  her?” 

With  confused  wonder  the  old  lady  admitted  the  gentle- 
men and  opened  the  door  of  the  best  parlor. 

44  It’ll  be  Rita  you’re  wanting  to  see,”  she  said. 

But  before  there  was  time  for  any  reply  what  they 
thought  a vision  came  into  the  room — a tall,  beautiful 
girl,  with  a magnificent  face  and  queenly  figure — a face  so 
wondrous  in  its  dark,  proud  beauty  that  those  who  saw  it 
never  forgot  it.  Philip  Lisle’s  heart  almost  stood  still. 
Ah,  dear  Heaven!  could  it  be — was  this  Lord  Lisle’s  lost 
darling? 

The  moment  had  come — the  moment  for  which  Rita 
had  longed  and  waited.  She  met  it  bravely.  The  color 
faded  from  her  cheek  and  lips,  but  no  word  or  sign  be- 
trayed her  fear  and  suspense. 

With  one  graceful  gesture  she  waved  Mrs.  Feme  from 
the  room;  then,  closing  the  door,  she  stood  facing  the 
three,  whose  errand  she  had  divined. 

44  May  I ask,”  said  Mr.  Kei>f,  46  if  you  are  the  daughter 
of  the  poor  woman  so  lately  dead,  Susan  Rivers?’ 

There  was  no  faltering  of  the  musical  voice;  the  beauti- 
ful lips  were  not  blistered  by  the  cruel  lie  that  rippled  over 
them. 

“ No,”  she  said,  clearly;  44 1 am  not  the  daughter  of 
Susan  Rivers — she  was  my  nurse.” 

Philip  Lisle  made  one  step  toward  her,  but  the  lawyer 
impatiently  signed  him  to  be  silent. ' 

“ May  1 ask  who  it  is  we  have  the  pleasure  of  address* 
ing?”  he  continued. 

44  Would  that  I could  answer  you,”  she  said.  44 1 have  no 
other  name  than  the  one  my  mother  poor  bore — Margaret. 


60 


LORD  LISLE  S DAUGHTER. 


Until  six  weeks  since,  when  Susan  Rivers  died,  I believed, 
myself  to  be  what  every  one  thought  me — her  own  child. 
On  the  night  of  her  death  she  told  me  my  true  story,  and 
gave  me  the  proofs.  I intend  to  devote  my  life  to  one 
purpose  of  finding  the  father  who  has  ceased  to  remember 
me.” 

“ We  are  here  making  inquiries  that  relate  doubtless  to 
the  same  story,”  said  Mr.  Kent.  “ Will  you  repeat  Susan 
Rivers’  words  to  us  and  show  us  the  proofs?” 

She  went  to  a box  that  lay  upon  the  little  table  and 
took  from  it  a key. 

“I  will  return  in  one  minute,”  she  said,  quitting  the 
room. 

When  she  closed  the  door  the  three  gentlemen  looked  at 
one  another  in  stupefied  wonder. 

“She  is  beautiful  and  dignified/'  said  Philip  Lisle.* 
“ My  uncle  will  be  wild  with  delight.” 

“ Do  not  judge  too  quickly,”  said  the  detective;  “let 
us  hear  first  what  the  young  lady  has  to  say.” 

No  trained  actress  could  have  played  her  part  better 
than  the  young  girl  who  re-entered  the  room  holding  a 
small  parcel  in  her  hand.  Philip  Lisle  placed  a chair  be- 
fore her.  She  took  it  with  graceful  nonchalance,  never 
once  raising  her  magnificent  eyes  to  his  face. 

“ The  story  I have  to  tell  is  a short  one,”  she  said.  “ I 
know  my  mother  only  by  the  name  of  Margaret  Howard. 
Years  ago,  when  she  was  Miss  Arle,  Susan  Rivers  waited 
upon  her.  Her  father  lost  his  fortune,  and  my  mother 
became  a governess.  Of  the  particulars  of  her  private 
marriage  with  my  father  I know  nothing.  My  nurse  and 
foster-mother  told  me  that  she  did  not  know  my  father’s 
name,  and  had  no  clew  to  it,  save  that  he  was  called  Cap- 
tain Arthur,  and  went  with  his  regiment  to  India. 

“ My  mother  took  me  when  I was  quite  a child  to  Deep- 

dale.  She  was  going’ to  India.  My  father  lay  ill  there; 

v** 


LORD  LISLE5S  DAUGHTER.  61 

and  Nurse  Rivers  promised  to  take  charge  of  me  for  a cer- 
tain time  and  bring  me  up  with  her  own  child/5 

The  clear  voice  faltered  then,  and  the  beautiful  lips 
trembled. 

“My  mother  was  lost  at  sea/5  she  continued,  sadly, 
“and  from  that  day  to  this  no  word  has  been  heard  of 
father  or  friend.  I have  been  neglected  or  forgotten.  My 
poor  nurse  did  her  best  for  me,  and  she  never  told  me 
until  the  night  she  died.55 

“And  then?55  continued  Mr.  Kent,  for  the  plaintive 
voice  ceased. 

“ Then  she  gave  me  these  proofs,55  said  the  young  girl 
— “ the  letter  my  mother  wrote,  a ring  Captain  Arthur 
gave  her,  and  a locket  containing  the  hair  of  both  my 
parents.55 

She  took  the  ring  and  the  letter  from  the  box  as  she 
spoke,  and  Philip  Lisle  looked  attentively  at  them.  The 
lawyer  read  the  letters  through  in  silence.  What  doubt 
could  he  reasonably  entertain? 

“Why  did  your  nurse  never  tell  you  this  before?55  he 
inquired.  “ Her  silence  seems  strange,55 

“Strange  and  cruel/5  said  the  young  girl;  “yet  she 
meant  it  kindly.  She  thought  it  better  to  let  me  live  in 
happy  ignorance.  Another  reason  was,  that  in  her  heart, 
I believe,  she  distrusted  Captain  Arthur. 55 

“ Why?55  said  Philip  Lisle,  hastily. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  she  raised  her  dark,  lustrous 
eyes  to  his;  their  beauty  struck  him  with  wonder. 

“Because  he  left  me  alone,  neglected,  and  uncared  for; 
because,  neither  by  word,  letter  nor  message  has  he  ever 
sought  me.  My  father  left  me  to  live  or  die  as  I might.55 

There  was  a ring  of  passion  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke. 

“ Hush,  child!55  said  Mr.  Kent;  “ your  father  has  spent 
a life-time  in  searching  for  you!  He  has  spent  a fortune 
in  the  search  for  eighteen  years!  The  loss  of  his  child  has 
clouded  and  darkened  his  life!  His  hair  is  white  with  sor* 


62 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


row,  and  all  for  you!  You  spoke  in  ignorance.  As  you 
value  heaven,  never  utter  one  word  against  your  father!" 

She  grew  very  pale  as  he  spoke;  and  Philip  Lisle  saw  a 
strange  quiver  pass  over  her  countenance. 

46  My  father?"  she  said,  softly.  44  Is  it  possible  that  he 
remembers  me  and  loves  me?" 

44  You  have  to  hear  his  story,"  continued  Mr.  Kent. 
44  No  one  has  spoken  to  you  of  the  chivalrous  love  he  had 
for  the  friendless  girl  he  married — of  the  life-long  agony 
her  death  and  your  loss  has  been!" 

44  But  tell  me,"  she  cried,  44  who  he  is.  Eemember,  my 
father  is  nothing  to  me  but  an  empty  name." 

Mr.  Kent  looked  anxiously  at  his  confreres . 

44  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  he  said.  44 1 can  see  no  flaw 
in  this  evidence." 

44  No,"  said  the  detective  officer,  gravely;  44  there  is  no 
doubt. " 

/44  Then,"  said  Mr.  Kent,  44  the  words  must  not  come 
from  a stranger's  lips.  Mr.  Lisle,  will  you  tell  this  young 
lady  who  her  father  is?" 

Philip  came  forward.  He  took  the  trembling  hands  in 
his  own,  and  bent  over  the  beautiful,  drooping  figure. 

44  When  your  father  married  your  mother,  Margaret 
Arle,"  he  said,  gently,  44  he  was  Captain  Arthur  Wy verne, 
a brave  officer,  and  a noble  gentleman.  He  is  now  Lord 
Lisle,  of  Lisle  Court,  and  you  are  his  only  child." 

Lord  Lisle!  Ah!  the  stake  was  worth  playing  for.  Her 
wildest  dreams  had  not  been  brighter  than  this.  A thrill 
of  grateful  vanity  made  the  worldly,  ambitious  heart  beat 
more  quickly. 

44 1 thank  God,"  said  Philip,  solemnly,  44  that  you  are 
found  at  last.  Your  father  has  wearied  for  you;  I left 
him  half  dead  with  suspense.  He  will  never  recover  until 
he  sees  you." 

For  one  moment  her  strong  nerve  gave  way,  and  she 
wept  convulsively.  The  strain  had  been  great;  she  had 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


63 


repeated  her  little  story — rehearsed  it  over  and  over  again 
—and  a half  doubt  had  lingered  in  her  mind  as  to  whether 
it  were  plausible.  She  knew  that  sooner  or  later  the  keen 
sense  of  the  law  would  analyze  it.  Something  that  she 
had  not  foreseen  might  turn  up,  and  then  her  brilliant 
castle  would  fall  in  ruins.  But  there  was  no  doubt  in  the 
kindly  faces  that  surrounded  her.  Even  the  lawyer’s  eyes 
grew  dim  as  he  listened  to  the  passionate  weeping. 

44  Nay,”  he  said,  gently;  44  you  must  not  give  way.  Be 
courageous  for  your  father’s  sake.” 

44  My  courage  seldom  fails,”  she  replied,  raising  her 
head  proudly. 

In  after-years  Philip  Lisle  remembered  the  instinct  that 
prompted  him  to  say:  44  Where  is  your  foster-sister,  Susan 
Rivers’  own  child?” 

44  She  has  gone  abroad,”  replied  Rita.  44 1 told  her  my 
story  before  she  left  England.  She  knows  nothing  more 
of  it  than  I know  myself.  Her  mother  never  named  it  to 
her.” 

44  Then  her  evidence  will  be  of  little  use,”  said  Mr. 
Kent.  44  Our  case  is  complete  without  any  addition.  And 
now,  Miss  Lisle,”  he  said,  turning  to  the  young  girl,  44  we 
must  not  lose  one  minute.  I can  imagine  the  effect  this 
excitement  will  produce  upon  Lord  Lisle.  Have  you  any 
friends  here,  or  any  arrangements  you  would  like  to 
make?” 

44  No,”  she  replied;  44 1 have  no  friends,  and  I have  no 
plans.  ” 

44  Could  you  arrange  to  start  for  Lisle  Court  to-morrow 
morning?”  he  asked. 

She  said  there  was  nothing  to  detain  her. 

44  Lord  Lisle  is  both  rich  and  generous,”  said  Philip. 
44  If  there  are  any  friends  or  dependents  you  would  like  to 
provide  for,  do  as  you  will.”  - 

44  The  old  woman  who  lives  here  has  been  very  good  to 
me  since  Susan  Rivers  died,”  she  replied.  44  It  would 


64  lord  lisle's  daughter. 

perhaps  be  as  well  that  she  should  continue  to  live  here, 
and  keep  on  the  little  home,  for  my  foster-sister  Daisy's 
sake." 

“ That  is  well  and  kindly  thought  of,"  said  Mr.  Kent. 

Mrs.  Feme  was  called  in,  and  almost  lost  her  senses  be- 
tween surprise  and  pleasure. 

“ I guessed  it,  gentlemen,"  she  cried.  “ Over  and  over 
again  I have  said  Miss  Rita  was  more  like  a queen  than 
poor  Susan's  child.  Hot-house  flowers  do  not  grow  in 
hedge-rows. " 


CHAPTER  XL 

There  was  no  rest  or  sleep  that  night  for  the  young 
girl,  whose  plan  succeeded  beyond  her  most  sanguine  ex- 
pectations. No  doubt  had  been  thrown  upon  her  word; 
no  suspicion  came  to  the  skillful  lawyer,  the  trained  detect- 
ive, or  the  handsome  cousin,  who  appeared*  to  know  the 
world  so  well.  As  she  stood  alone  in  her  room  that  night, 
her  heart  thrilled  with  triumph.  Fate  itself  seemed  to 
have  played  into  her  hands.  All  she  had  ever  wished  for 
— rank,  wealth,  position — were  now  in  her  grasp.  Her 
good  fortune  bewildered  her. 

Yet,  as  she  stood  there,  in  the  very  hour  of  her  triumph, 
solemn  words,  spoken  long  ago  by  her  dead  mother,  came 
back  to  her.  Did  an  evil  deed  ever  prosper  long?  Did 
not  retribution,  sooner  or  later,  overtake  those  who  be- 
trayed a sacred  trust,  and  usurped  rights  belonging  to 
another? 

“ Could  evil  prosper?"  again  and  again  she  asked  her- 
self the  question— her  beautiful  face  becoming  graver  with 
every  repetition. 

“ In  my  case  it  will!"  she  said,  proudly.  44 1 have  con- 
quered circumstances,  and  will  conquer  evil,  and  make  it 
my  good." 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 

Far  into  the  night  she  sat  with  Mrs.  Ferae,  telling  the 
details  of  the  story  she  had  made  her  own. 

44  And  now  it  tarns  out/'  she  said,  44  that  my  father  is  a 
rich  nobleman,  and  not  only  anxious  to  see  me,  but  ready 
to  give  his  whole  fortune  for  the  purpose  of  finding  me." 

44  1 always  thought  it,"  said  Mrs.  Ferae.  44  You  were 
never  like  poor  Susan,  or  Daisy,  either." 

44  I have  one  charge  to  leave  with  you,"  said  Margaret, 
after  a few  minutes  of  deep  silence.  66  Do  you  remember 
that  evening,  soon  after  my  poor  nurse's  death,  a young 
man  came  here  to — to  say  4 good-bye  9 to  me,  before  he 
went  to  sea?  Should  you  know  him  were  you  to  see  him 
again?" 

46  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Ferae.  44 1 could  never  forget  his 
dark  face. " 

44  He  will  come  again,"  said  Margaret.  44  It  may  be  in 
three  years'  time — perhaps  sooner.  When  he  comes,  tell 
him  my  story — tell  him  that  my  own  father  has  claimed 
me,  and  that  it  will  be  better  for  him  to  forget  me,  as  he 
will  never  see  me  again.  No  matter  what  he  says — no 
matter  what  he  offers  you — neither  tell  him  my  name,  nor 
where  I am.  1 will  reward  you  handsomely  if  you  manage 
this  well." 

Mrs.  Ferae  understood  perfectly. 

44  He  shall  never  know  your  real  name,  or  where  you 
live,  from  me,"  she  said.  44  Make  your  mind  easy  about 
that.  He  can  not  know  them  from  any  one  else." 

Margaret  thought,  as  she  stood  in  her  room  that  night, 
watching  the  pale  stars  shining  in  the  quiet  night  sky,  that 
the  future  lay  smiling  before  her.  Balph  Ashton  had  been 
her  only  fear.  Perhaps  he  might  never  return;  even 
should  he  come  to  seek  her,  the  wonderful  change  in  her 
fortune  would  convince  him  that  all  further  acquaintance 
was  impossible.  The  cold,  ambitious  heart  felt  no  pang 
of  regret  at  the  true  love  she  was  throwing  away. 

Philip  Lisle  looked  at  his  cousin  with  critical  attention 

a ... 


66 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER, 


on  the  following  morning  as  they  were  starting  on  their 
journey.  There  was  nothing  unlady-like  in  the  long  black 
dress  and  sweeping  mantilla.  The  superb  beauty  of  the 
southern  face  shone  out  brightly  from  amid  the  clouds  of 
black. 

He  looked  to  see  if  she  wept  on  leaving  the  humble 
home  that  had  sheltered  her  for  so  long;  but  there  was  no 
trace  of  tears  in  those  dark,  lustrous  eyes. 

It  was  a wonderful  journey  for  Eita.  She  liked  the 
deferential  homage  of  her  three  companions,  who  treated 
her  as  though  she  had  been  a princess.  She  liked  the  ad- 
miration her  beautiful  face  excited.  She  liked  being  called 
“ Miss  Lisle/"’  and  hearing  of  her  father’s  prestige,  and 
the  grandeur  of  his  race. 

The  day  was  drawing  near  its  close  when  they  reached 
the  Hall.  The  evening  gloaming  was  quiet  and  calm;  a 
gray  shadow  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  world;  the  flowers 
were  all  sleeping,  and  the  birds  had  gone  to  rest. 

A bright  flush  rose  to  Margaret's  face  as  they  caught 
sight  of  the  Hall  rising  proudly  from  among  the  luxuriant 
trees. 

“ That  is  Lisle  Court,"  said  Philip  to  his  cousin. 
“ There  is  not  a fairer,  prouder  home  in  England.  Lord 
Lisle  awaits  you  there  impatiently. " 

That  evening  was  long  remembered  by  those  who  lived 
at  the  Hall.,  Lord  Lisle  wished  his  daughter  to  be  received 
with  all  the  honors  due  to  her.  The  servants  in  livery 
were  ranged  in  the  hall,  ready  to  welcome  their  young  mis- 
tress. Mrs.  Wyverne  sat  in  the  long  drawing-room,  in 
great  state  and  grandeur;  but  Lord  Lisle  was  too  agitated 
for  any  public  display. 

“ Mother,"  said  Lord  Lisle,  “ I can  not  greet  my  daugh- 
ter here.  I shall  remain  in  my  study.  Bring  her  to  me, 
and  leave  us  alone." 

He  sat  there  while  the  sun  set  in  the  golden  west  and 
the  gray  glooming  spread  over  the  land.  He  heard  at 
/ 


LORD  lisle's  daughter,  67 

length  the  carriage  wheels,  and  knew  that  in  a few  min- 
utes he  should  see  Margaret's  child  again. 

There  was  a murmur  of  excitement  as  the  carriage 
stopped  at  the  Hall  door.  Those  who  waited  there  saw  a 
tall,  stately  lady  descend.  There  was  no  faltering  in  her 
proud  bearing;  there  was  no  emotion  on  the  beautiful  face 
as  they  bent. before  her  in  lowly  greeting. 

Mrs.  Wyverne  stepped  forward,  and  clasped  the  grace- 
ful figure  in  her  arms. 

“ Let  me  be  the  first  to  welcome  you  home,"  she  said. 
“I  am  your  father's  mother,  Margaret,  and  you  must 
learn  to  love  me." 

“You  are  very  kind,"  Margaret  said,  gently;  then, 
turning  to  Philip  Lisle,  she  asked:  “ Where  is  my  father? 
Let  me  see  him  soon." 

Mrs.  Wyverne  took  her  hand,  and  led  her  through  a 
long  suite  of  magnificent  rooms.  They  reached  the  library 
door  at  last,  and  she  rapped  gently. 

“ Come  in!"  said  a low,  hoarse  voice,  unlike  any  she 
had  ever  heard. 

“ Go  in  alone,  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Wyverne.  “ Try 
and  calm  your  father — he  is  not  strong." 

Eita  opened  the  door.  The  room  was  very  long,  and 
dim  in  the  gray  evening  light;  but  at  the  upper  end  she 
saw  a figure  with  outstretched,  trembling  arms. 

In  fancy  she  had  often  rehearsed  that  scene.  The  real- 
ity had  come  at  length. 

She  walked  quickly  up  the  long  room  and  threw  herself 
into  the  clasp  of  those  loving  arms. 

“ My  father,"  she  said,  gently;  “ have  I found  you  at 
last?" 

But  he  had  no  such  calm  words  for  her;  his  agitation 
was  pitiful  to  see.  Deep  sobs  seemed  to  shake  his  strong 
heart;  tears  dropped  from  his  eyes;  he  clasped  her  in  his 
aims  as  though  even  death  should  not  part  them  again. 

“My  darling,"  he  said — “my  little  pearl — my  Mar- 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


garet’s  child?  Thank  Heaven,  1 have  found  you! — thank 
Heaven,  1 hold  you  in  my  arms  again  !”  He  released  her 
then  and  looked  at  her.  44  How  beautiful  you  are!”  he 
said,  proudly.  44  You  have  not  your  mother’s  sweet  face 
and  calm,  tender  eyes.  You  are  beautiful,  like  some  of 
the  ladies  of  our  race,  who  shone  fairest  among  the  fair! 
Speak  to  me  again,  darling!  Let  me  hear  if  you  have 
your  mother’s  voice?” 

46 1 fear  you  will  be  disappointed  in  me,”  she  said.  46 1 
am  not  like  my  mother;  Susan  Eivers  told  me  so.  She 
was  fair  and  gentle;  I am  dark,  like  you.” 

44  She  had  dark  hair,”  said  Lord  Lisle;  44  not  black,  like 
yours — dark  and  soft,  like  the  wing  of  some  rare  bird. 
Oh,  Margaret!  I have  never  seen  you  since  you  were  a 
little  babe,  and  I held  you  in  my  arms.  What  years  of 
happiness  I have  lost! — but  not  through  my  fault — not  my 
fault.  My  heart  has  longed  for  you,  darling — I have 
thirsted  for  one  look  at  your  face — I would  have  given  my 
life  to  find  you — but  all  longing  seemed  vain.” 

She  knelt  by  his  side,  and  spoke  gentle  words  that 
soothed  him,  of  the  happiness  in  store  for  them—of  the 
long  years  they  might  yet  spend  together;  and  no  remorse 
startled  her  for  the  false  words  that  were  passing  her  lips. 

Time  seemed  to  fly;  but  Lord  Lisle  was  roused  from  his 
trance  of  delight  by  a gentle  rap  at  the  door. 

44  Come  in,  mother,”  he  said,  44 1 must  not  be  selfish; 
let  me  share  my  happiness.  Is  Philip  there?  Come  in, 
Philip;  I have  much  to  thank  you  for.  Come  and  bid  my 
beloved  child  thrice  welcome  home.” 

They  vied  with  each  other  who  should  be  kindest  and 
most  attentive,  until,  at  length,  Mrs.  Wyverne  started  up, 
saying:  44  How  totally  unused  we  are  to  young  ladies! 
Margaret  has  never  had  time  to  remove  her  bonnet. 
Come  with  me,  dear  child;  I will  show  you  the  rooms  your 
father  has  arranged  for  you.  We  found  you  a maid  yes- 
terday— one  I think  you  will  like.  ” 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


69 


Lord  Lisle  clasped  his  daughter  in  his  arms  again. 

“ I shall  feel  anxious  every  moment  you  are  out  of  my 
sight,”  he  said.  44  Make  haste,  Margaret.” 

The  two  ladies  quitted  the  room  together.  Then  Lord 
Lisle,  turning  to  his  nephew,  said:  44  How  beautiful  she  is, 
Philip — how  dignified  and  graceful!  Her  voice  is  like 
music.  Who  can  have  taught  her  such  manners?  Her 
accent  is  refined  as  my  own.  I am  as  much  surprised  as 
pleased.” 

44  She  is  very  beautiful,”  said  Philip;  44  but  she  does  not 
resemble  you  at  all.  Her  nurse  was  a superior  woman, 
and  appears  to  have  strained  every  nerve  to  give  both  girls 
a good  education.  Miss  Lisle's  foster-sister  has  gone 
abroad  as  governess  to  some  young  lady.” 

44  She  must  return,  then,”  said  Lord  Lisle.  44 1 will  do 
to  her  as  her  good  and  generous  mother  did  to  my  child. 
She  shall  be  Margaret's  sister  still — in  more  than  name.  ” 

That  evening  Lord  Lisle  seemed  to  regain  all  his  lost 
strength  and  energy.  His  mother  looked  on  him  with  eyes 
full  of  happy  tears. 

After  dinner  a solemn  council  was  held  in  the  library. 
While  it  lasted,  Lord  Lisle  held  Rita's  hand  in  his. 

She  showed  him  the  proofs  of  her  story~the  letters  writ- 
ten by  Margaret  Wyverne,  her  mother,  to  Susan  Rivers, 
her  nurse — letters  that  spoke  so  lovingly  of  the  dear  hus- 
band who  lay  ill,  and  the  little  child  she  was  so  grieved  to 
leave  behind  her. 

She  showed  the  quaint  ring,  with  its  legend:  44  No  love 
out  of  this  ring  ” — the  locket  where  Lord  Lisle's  hair  was 
intwined  with  that  of  his  wife. 

44  These  are  all  my  treasures,”  she  said.  44  My  mother 
left  nothing  more.” 

44  They  are  quite  enough  to  establish  your  identity,” 
said  Mr.  Kent,  who,  at  Lord  Lisle's  urgent  request,  re- 
mained for  the  evening. 

Lord  Lisle  held  them  in  his  hands.  How  vividly  he  re* 


70 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


membered  the  day  he  had  placed  that  ring  on  his  wife's 
finger,  and  her  pretty,  happy  pride  when  he  gave  her  the 
locket. 

“ Margaret/'  he  said,  “ I will  give  you  whatever  you 
ask,  if  you  will  give  me  this  locket  and  ring.  Your  moth- 
er's face  rises  before  me  as  I gaze  upon  them.  You  shall 
have  diamonds  a queen  might  envy,  if  you  will  give  me 
these." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a bright  smile. 

“They  are  yours,"  she  said,  gently;  “ even  as  I am 
yours — because  they  belonged  to  my  mother.  No  dia- 
monds, however  valuable,  could  pay  for  them." 

Then  a scene  took  place  which  gratified  Rita's  ambition. 
Lord  Lisle  assembled  his  servants  and  dependents,  and 
formally  introduced  their  young  mistress;  telling,  in  brief, 
clear  words,  the  story  of  her  loss  and  recovery.  Mrs. 
Markham  was  there,  and  a half  fear,  half  dread  passed 
through  Rita's  mind,  as  Lord  Lisle  said,  with  a smile: 
“ My  daughter  has  altered  since  you  saw  her  last,  and, 
Mrs.  Markham,  is  there  any  feature  you  recognize?" 

“None,  my  lord,"  she  replied.  46 1 remember  her 
mother's  face  vividly,  but  1 can  not  recall  Miss  Lisle’s." 

It  was  an  evening  of  triumph  unmarred  by  one  draw- 
back. 

Lord  Lisle  talked  much  to  Margaret  of  her  foster-sister. 
He  was  charmed  with  her  replies,  although  he  wondered 
much  that  she  showed  no  great  pleasure  when  he  avowed 
his  intention  of  adopting  her. 

“ You  must  lay  aside  this  heavy  mourning  to-morrow," 
said  Lord  Lisle.  “ My  mother  has  taken  care  to  provide 
you  with  a trousseau . 1 shall  add  jewelry  to  your  taste." 

When  the  darkness  and  silence  of  night  had  fallen  over 
the  Hall,  while  Lord  Lisle  dreamed  of  his  dead  wife  and 
living  child,  Margaret  said  to  herself:  “ It  was  a brilliant 
play,  and  I acted  my  part  well." 


L0RD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


n 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


A month  passed,  and  Margaret  found  herself  with 
every  wish  of  her  heart  gratified.  She  had  longed  for  rich 
dresses  wherewith  to  adorn  the  wondrous  beauty  that  had 
been  so  fatal  a dower.  She  had  them  now  in  abundance. 
Mrs.  Wyverne  herself  selected  a trousseau  that  might  have 
suited  a princess.  Lord  Lisle  wished  that  neither  expense 
nor  trouble  should  be  spared.  She  had  longed  for  jewels; 
her  father  gave  her  the  celebrated  “ Lisle  diamonds” — 
considered  by  connoisseurs  as  some  of  the  finest  stones  in 
England.  He  lavished  presents  upon  her — delicate,  glow- 
ing pearls;  opals  of  rare  and  beautiful  hues;  rich  rubies, 
“ flashing  red;”  emeralds  with  a rare,  golden  light  in  their 
green  depths.  There  were  times  when  she  shut  herself  in 
her  room  alone  with  her  treasures;  she  took  them  from 
their  velvet  beds,  and  placed  them  on  her  neck  and  arms; 
and  as  she  did  so,  and  the  wondrous  diamonds  flashed  like 
points  of  flame,  she  smiled  contemptuously  over  the  ear- 
rings Ralph  had  given  her  and  which  she  had  once  thought 
so  magnificent. 

A French  waiting-maid,  who  understood  her  business 
and  knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  Rita’s  dark,  glowing 
beauty,  had  been  engaged  to  attend  her.  Lord  Lisle  pur- 
chased a magnificent  horse  especially  for  her,  and  she  was, 
in  a very  short  time,  taught  to  ride;  everything  that  love, 
luxury,  or  comfort  could  suggest  was  always  at  her  com- 
mand to  the  very  moment. 

On  the  day  following  her  arrival.  Lord  Lisle  himself 
took  her  over  the  Hall,  showing  her  the  state-rooms,  the 
picture-gallery,  the  magnificent  modern  apartments,  the 
treasures  of  art,  the  statues  brought  from  Italy,  the  gold 
and  silver  plate — in  itself  worth  a king’s  ransom. 

He  was  proud  of  the  beautiful  girl  who  swept  through 


72  LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 

these  gorgeous  rooms;  she  said  nothing  of  the  wonder  they 
excited  in  her.  That,  she  thought,  would  show  a want  of 
good  taste.  But  when  they  came  to  the  picture-gallery, 
and  Lord  Lisle  raised  the  heavy  velvet  hangings,  she  stood 
for  a few  minutes  in  mute  surprise. 

“It  is  a grand  old  place — my  father !"  she  said, 
proudly. 

44  And  a grand  old  race  to  whom  it  belongs/'  he  replied. 
44  1 know  of  no  family  whose  annals  are  so  stainless  as  our 
own.  Our  men  have  ever  been  brave,  our  women  pure. 
No  Lisle  ever  yet  brought  even  the  shadow  of  shame  or 
disgrace  upon  his  name.  The  deepest  regret  of  my  life  is 
that  your  mother  did  not  live  to  take  her  place  here." 

44  Have  you  no  portrait  of  my  mother?"  asked  Rita. 

“Yes,"  replied  Lord  Lisle.  “I  shall  take  it  to  Italy 
with  me  and  have  a larger  one  painted  from  it,  to  hang  up 
here.  There  will  be  no  sweeter,  fairer  face  in  the  gallery 
than  that  of  Margaret  Lisle!" 

They  went  on  through  the  long  corridors,  until  they 
reached  the  eastern  wing  of  the  Hall. 

44  There  are  some  nice  rooms  here,"  said  Lord  Lisle, 
44  but  they  have  not  been  used  of  late  years.  Dame  Sybella 
Lisle  died  here,  and  her  portrait  hangs  still  in  her  room. 
We  will  go  to  see  it.  It  is  considered  a fine  work  of  art." 

But  when  they  stood  before  it,  Rita,  for  one  half  mo^ 
ment,  lost  her  self-command,  her  lips  grew  white,  and  a 
dark  shadow  dimmed  her  eyes  as  she  gazed  upon  it. 

The  face  was  pure  and  fair,  with  a refined  spiritual  ex- 
pression on  the  delicate  features;  the  brow  was  clear  and 
pure;  the  violet  eyes  lustrous  and  tender;  bright  golden 
hair  rippled  over  a white  neck;  the  sweet  lips  were  parted 
with  a smile;  it  was  the  very  face  of  Daisy — Daisy  whom 
she  had  betrayed,  robbed  of  her  birthright,  and  deceived! 

44 1 must  have  the  picture  removed.  It  should  be  in  the 
gallery,  not  here!" 

44  Are  these  rooms  ever  used?"  asked  Rita. 


tOKD  LISLE*S  DAtTGHTEk. 


“Not  often,*  replied  Lord  Lisle.  “A  gem  like  this 
should  not  hang  here  unnoticed.  It  is  one  of  the  finest 
pictures  we  have.  I must  attend  to  the  removal.* 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Rita  was  thinking  how  it  could  best 
be  destroyed.  Daisy’s  face  resembled  it  so  perfectly,  that 
every  one  must  observe  the  likeness.  Rapidly  as  lightning 
the  thought  passed  through  her  mind. 

“ Grant  me  a favor,  dear  papa!*  she  said.  “ I like  this 
picture;  will  you  allow  me  to  have  it  in  my  own  room?” 

Only  too  pleased  to  comply  with  any  request  that  came 
from  his  darling  child.  Lord  Lisle  consented.  Before 
night  the  portrait  of  Lady  Sybella  Lisle  was  hung  in  her 
room. 

“You  like  your  home,  then,  Margaret?*  said  Lord 
Lisle,  as  they  stood  upon  the  broad  terrace  overlooking 
the  fragrant  flower  garden. 

“ Yes,*  she  replied,  gently.  “ My  only  regret  is  that  I 
lid  not  know  it  years  ago.* 

“ It  has  not  been  mine  very  long,*  said  Lord  Lisle. 

£ You  should  understand  that  Lisle  Court  and  the  title 
Are  both  entailed.  At  my  death  they  go  to  Philip.  He 
will  be  Lord  Lisle.*  He  did  not  see  the  dismayed  expres- 
sion that  crossed  her  face,  but  continued:  “ The  estates  of 
Helsmeir,  in  Scotland,  and  Endsleigh  in  Yorkshire,  are 
my  own.  They  are  not  entailed.  At  my  death  they  will 
be  yours;  but  Lisle  Court  goes  to  Philip,  together  with  all 
the  fair,  broad  domain  that  surrounds  it.  * 

She  made  no  reply,  but  the  words  were  never  forgotten. 

Lord  Lisle  watched  his  daughter  attentively.  Her 
beauty  and  dignity  charmed  him.  She  never  betrayed  any 
ungainliness  or  awkwardness  of  manner.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  her  that  told  how  the  early  years  of  her  life  had 
been  spent.  Her  accent  was  good — she  spoke  well — she 
was  quick  and  apt  in  imitation;  but  there  was  a something 
wanting.  She  had  wit  and  repartee;  but  Lord  Lisle  saw 
plainly  that  at  times  in  conversation  she  was  lost.  Sh© 


?4  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

could  not  speak  of  books— she  had  read  but  little— or  of 
pictures.  She  knew  little  of  art  or  of  music.  She  did  not 
know  the  names  of  leading  statesmen;  and  occasionally 
Lord  Lisle  detected  a flush  of  annoyance  on  the  beautiful 
face  when  she  felt  her  own  deficiencies. 

He  talked  long  and  earnestly  to  Mrs.  Wy  verne;  and  be- 
tween them  a plan  was  arranged  which  they  thought  would 
settle  all  difficulties. 

Lord  Lisle  went  in  search  of  his  daughter.  He  found 
her  in  the  garden,  sitting  under  the  spreading  shade  of  a 
large  cedar-tree. 

“ Rita,”  he  said,  gently,  sitting  on  the  grass  by  her  side, 
“ we  must  have  a long  conversation.  How  old  are  you?” 

“ Just  eighteen!”  she  replied,  with  some  little  surprise. 

Then  Lord  Lisle,  with  paternal  fondness,  clasped  her 
hands  in  his. 

“ You  must  not  be  hurt  or  vexed  at  what  1 am  going  to 
say,  my  darling,”  he  began,  “ and,  above  all,  do  not  think 
I am  dissatisfied  with  you.  I am  more  proud  of  you  than 
of  anything  else  in  the  world.  But  there  are  a few  little 
deficiencies  we  must  try  to  remedy.  It  is  usual  for  a young 
lady  of  your  rank  and  position  to  be  presented  at  Court, 
and  make  her  debut  in  the  grand  world.” 

“Yes,”  she  said,  brightly;  “ grandmamma  has  been 
telling  me  all  about  it.  1 am  impatient  for  the  time  to 
come.” 

“You  must  learn  to  wait,”  he  replied,  with  a smile. 
“ It  is  on  this  subject  1 want  to  speak  to  you.  You  are 
only  eighteen.  I should  like  you  to  devote  two  entire 
years  to  fitting  yourself  for  your  place  in  the  world.”  He 
saw  the  keen  look  of  disappointment,  and  hastened  to  add: 
“ They  shall  be  happy  years,  my  darling.  I will  take  you 
abroad.  We  will  go  to  France  and  to  Italy.  We  will 
take  with  us  some  clever  and  accomplished  lady,  who  will 
give  you  what  my  mother  calls  finishing  touches.  You 
must  learn  the  names  of  great  authors  and  read  their 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


75 


works.  You  must  see  the  finest  pictures  in  Italy,  and 
learn  all  about  the  artists  who  painted  them.  You  must 
study  the  great  world,  its  code  of  manners,  its  forms  and 
etiquette,  before  you  go  into  it.” 

44  I understand,”  she  said,  sadly. 

44  Nay,”  said  Lord  Lisle;  44  it  is  a matter  for  smiles,  not 
sighs.  1 venture  to  predict,  Eita,  that  in  two  years’  time, 
when  we  return,  you  will  create  a sensation  not  easily  for- 
gotten. You  might  do  so  now,  but  I prefer  this  time  of 
probation.  What  do  you  say — are  you  willing?” 

44  Yes,”  she  replied,  44  and  grateful.  1 see  how  neces- 
sary it  is.” 

44  Did  you  ever  learn  anything  of  music  or  singing?” 
asked  Lord  Lisle. 

44  No,”  she  replied.  44  My  foster-sister  Daisy  sings.” 

44  Ah,  well,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  44  we  must  never  dream 
of  blaming  poor  Susan;  it  was  quite  natural  that  she 
should  do  the  best  for  her  own  child.  She  has  received  a 
better  education  than  you?” 

44  Yes,”  was  the  false  answer.  44  Mrs.  Eivers  was  every- 
thing that  was  kind  to  me;  but  she  treated  Daisy  differ- 
ently.” 

The  words  rang  out  clear  and  soft  on  the  bright  summer 
air,  and  no  one  was  there  to  say  how  cruel  and  false  they 
were. 

“That  reminds  me,”  said  Lord  Lisle.  44 1 am  very 
anxious,  Eita,  that  your  foster-sister  should  come  to  live 
with  you.  1 owe  to  her  mother  a debt  of  gratitude  that 
nothing  can  pay.  I want  to  do  as  she  did — make  her 
child  my  own.” 

No  light  or  happiness  came  into  the  beautiful  face  Lord 
Lisle  watched  so  lovingly. 

44  Of  course  you  love  her  very  dearly?”  he  continued. 

44  Yes,”  she  replied,  calmly.  44 1 loved  poor  little 
Daisy,”  but  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  she  spoke  had  no 
ring  of  music — no  enthusiasm. 


?6 


LOtU)  LISLE^S  DAtJGtITEB. 


44  Is  she  plain  or  stupid?”  asked  Lord  Lisle,  anxiously. 

44  Neither,”  she  replied,  more  earnestly.  44 1 think  her 
pretty.  She  is  very  fair  and  gentle;  fond  of  reading  and 
drawing.  Oh,  papa,  they  were  kind  to  me,  but  I was  not 
happy  there.  I should  like  to  forget  that  past,  and  Daisy 
would  remind  me  of  it.” 

Lord  Lisle  looked  hurt  and  disappointed.  With  her 
keen,  shrewd  instinct  she  saw  and  noted  it. 

44  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  dear  papa,”  she  said. 
44  Like  yourself,  I feel  all  that  I owe  to  Daisy's  mother.  I 
would  cheerfully  give  Daisy  all  I have,  but  I — do  not  laugh* 
at  me — I want  to  be  alone  with  you  a little  longer.  She  is 
clever;  she  sings  sweetly;  perhaps  you  might  love  her  bet- 
ter than  your  own  poor  little  Rita.” 

She  looked  so  beautiful,  so  loving  and  charming,  that 
Lord  Lisle  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  laughed  heartily. 

44  Jealous!”  he  said.  44  You  are  positively  jealous, 
Rita!  Well,  your  quiet  shall  not  be  disturbed  yet.  You 
tell  me  Daisy  is  with  her  friends  at  Florence.  We  may 
see  her  there,  and  then  we  can  arrange.  I must  leave  you 
now.  I am  going  over  to  Grafton  Hall.  Tell  me,  may  I 
consider  the  matter  settled?  Are  you  willing  to  go 
abroad?” 

44 1 shall  like  it  above  all  things,”  she  said,  gayly.  44 1 
shall  soon  learn  all  about  the  great  world,  papa.” 

Lord  Lisle  left  her  sitting  under  the  grand  old  cedar- 
tree.  As  he  went  down  the  broad  path  he  turned  to  look 
once  more  at  her.  She  was  smiling  at  him,  and  he  thought 
in  all  the  world  there  was  nothing  so  bright  or  beautiful  as 
his  daughter's  face.  When  he  disappeared  from  among 
the  green  trees,  the  smile  died  away,  the  brightness  all 
faded.  A look  of  care  and  anxiety  came  over  the  darl$ 
eyes. 

44 1 must  do  something,”  she  said.  44  She  must  not 
come  here!  No  human  evidence  can  ever  be  brought 
against  me;  but  that  face  will  strike  every  one!  She  must 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter,  77 

uot  come  until  1 am  safe — until  I am  Philip  Lisle’s  wife! 
Nothing  can  matter  then!” 

While  the  birds  sung,  and  the  fair  flowers  bloomed — 
while  the  sun  shone,  and  the  soft  summer  air  whispered  of 
love,  peace,  and  happiness,  she  sat  thinking,  scheming, 
and  inventing. 

She  had  succeeded  beyond  her  wildest  hopes.  Her  fraud 
had  been  a complete  success.  There  came  to  her  no  re- 
morseful memory  of  the  dying  mother  whose  trust  she  had 
betrayed;  no  compunction  or  sorrow  for  the  gentle  girl 
from  whom  she  had  stolen  home,  love,  and  everything 
else. 

She  sat  through  the  summer  morning,  busy  with  two 
thoughts.  One  was  how  to  keep  Daisy  from  Lisle  Court; 
the  other,  how  to  win  the  heart  of  Philip  Lisle.  The 
whole  ambition  of  her  soul  was  centered  in  that  one  idea 
— she  must  be  Lady  Lisle— Lady  Margaret  Lisle!  As  she 
murmured  the  name  to  herself  a smile  rippled  over  her 
lips,  for  she  thought  of  Kalph  Ashton  and  the  vow  he  had 
forced  her  to  take.  She  thought  of  him  without  love — 
without  anything  but  contempt.  The  fierce,  passionate 
love  he  had  lavished  upon  her  was  forgotten  or  unheeded. 
She  disliked  even  to  think  of  that  miserable  past.  She 
was  to  be  Lady  Lisle! 

Lord  Lisle  did  not  delay  in  making  arrangements.  Be- 
fore the  end  of  the  week  he  had  secured  the  assistance  of  a 
clever,  accomplished  lady,  the  widow  of  one  of  his  fellow- 
officers,  a high-bred,  refined  woman,  who  gladly  undertook 
the  charge  of  his  daughter. 

Mrs.  Marche  seemed  instinctively  to  understand  all  that 
was  required  of  her.  She  was  to  help  the  young  lady  to 
acquire  a polish  and  grace  of  manner  that  as  yet  she  had 
not.  She  was  to  teach  those  little  mysteries  of  etiquette 
that  can  only  be  learned  from  those  accustomed  to  good 
society.  Far  as  lay  in  her  power,  she  was  to  cultivate  her 
mind  and  intellect/ 


78 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Mrs.  Wyverne  remained  at  Lisle  Court.  Philip  Lisle 
thought  it  probable  that  he  might  join  his  uncle  in  Italy 
when  he  went  there.  They  were  to  go  to  Paris  first,  and 
remain  there  a year.  During  that  year  masters  of  all 
kinds  were  to  instruct  Miss  Lisle.  She  resolved  to  devote 
herself  to  study  and  acquiring  the  polish  of  high  life. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  year  passed  rapidly  enough.  At  its  close  Margaret 
was  barely  recognizable.  All  that  cultivation  could  do  for 
her  was  done.  All  trace  of  the  cottage  education  had  dis- 
appeared; the  musical  voice  had  become  clear  and  distinct 
as  a silver  bell;  all  little  eccentricities  of  speech  and  man- 
ner had  disappeared;  her  language,  even,  had  become  re- 
markable for  its  elegant  simplicity  and  force. 

The  half-conscious  manner  had  disappeared,  and  a 
graceful  dignity  had  taken  its  place.  Margaret  had  spared 
no  pains.  She  read,  and,  above  all,  listened  to  the. con- 
versation of  clever  and  talented  men.  She  was  so  quick, 
so  apt  in  all  imitation,  that  nothing  escaped  her.  The 
names  of  great  men  and  great  works  were  no  longer  a dead 
letter  to  her;  she  could  converse  intelligently  and  well. 
Her  wonderful  beauty  had  been  carefully  cultivated  also. 
Few  would  have  recognized  in  the  queenly  girl,  whose 
magnificent  face  drew  all  eyes,  the  rustic  beauty  who  had 
listened  so  eagerly  to  Ralph  Ashton's  praises. 

Lord  Lisle  was  more  than  satisfied  with  that  one  year's 
training. 

News  came  often  from  England.  Mrs.  Wvyerne  found 
plenty  to  do  in  managing  the  Hall.  Philip  was  busily 
engaged  in  the  care  of  the  estate.  Lord  Lisle  wrote,  press- 
ing him  to  join  them  at  Rome,  and  spend  some  months 
with  them. 

“ Do  come,  Philip,"  he  wrote,  1 want  you  to  see 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  79 

what  progress  Rita  has  made.  I want  to  know  what  you 
think  of  her/' 

They  went  to  Naples,  and  from  there  Lord  Lisle  wrote 
a most  kind  letter  to  Daisy,  pressing  her  to  pay  them  a 
visit. 

44  I want  you  to  live  with  us,”  he  said;  46  to  be  as  one  of 
my  own  children;  to  be  Rita’s  sister,  as  you  have  always 
been.  Come  and  stay  with  us  for  some  months  first,  and 
then  we  c%n  decide  about  the  future.  ” 

And  Daisy,  in  reply,  said  that  in  two  months  the  term 
for  which  she  had  engaged  herself  to  the  Denhams  would 
expire,  and  then  she  would  gladly  rejoin  her  sister. 
Philip’s  letter  reached  Naples  the  same  morning,  saying 
he  should  be  with  them  during  that  week. 

He  came  one  beautiful  evening  when  the  sky  was 
cloudless,  and  the  waters  of  the  bay,  half  blue,  half 
golden,  rippled  and  broke  musically  upon  the  shore. 
Lord  Lisle  had  gone  out,  and  Mrs.  Marche  was  engaged 
when  he  arrived.  He  was  ushered  into  a room  that 
seemed  to  be  all  sunlight  and  flowers.  He  saw  there  a 
dignified  and  beautiful  woman,  who  received  him  with  ex- 
quisite grace.  He  cried  out  in  amazement,  44  Miss  Lisle, 
how  you  have  altered!  I did  not  know  you.” 

Nor  could  he  cease  from  wondering.  His  eyes  wandered 
from  the  peerless  face  to  the  magnificent  dress.  In^his 
ears  the  musical  voice  lingered  like  a spell.  Could  this  be 
the  young  girl  he  had  found  in  the  little  cottage  at 
Queen’s  Lynne?  Rita  saw  and  noted  his  surnrise.  It  was 
to  her  the  most  flattering  compliment  he  could  have  paid. 
She  remembered  her  first  interview  with  him,  when  he  had 
seemed  to  her  something  quite  different  from  the  common 
race  of  men.  His  handsome  face  and  high-bred  manner, 
his  careless  ease  and  debonair  style,  had  charmed  and 
amazed  her.  She  had  seen  no  one  like  him.  And  now 
this  man,  who  had  appeared  to  her  like  a king,  grew  con- 
fused in  her  presence.  They  had  changed  places. 


80 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Philip  received  the  warmest  welcome  from  Lord  Lisle. 

44  You  will  stay  with  us,  of  course,”  he  said.  “ Do  not 
talk  of  hotels;  we  shall  be  quite  a happy  family.  Do  just 
as  you  like,  but  do  not  think  of  leaving  us.” 

When  they  were  alone.  Lord  Lisle  turned  to  his  kins- 
man. 

44  Philip,”  he  said,  gravely,  44  tell  me  the  exact  truth; 
what  do  you  think  of  Margaret  now?” 

44  My  dear  uncle,”  he  replied,  44  you  might  jqst  as  well 
ask  me  to  write  a poem,  or  paint  a picture.  In  a few 
words,  she  is  the  most  perfectly  beautiful  girl  I ever  saw; 
the  change  *jn  her  is  so  marvelous.  1 see  no  fault  or 
blemish,  and  my  whole  heart  rejoices  in  your  happiness.” 
Lord  Lisle  looked  delighted. 

44  I shall  take  her  home  next  year  and  introduce  her,” 
he  said.  44 1 long  to  see  her  take  her  place  in  the  great 
world.” 

44  She  will  adorn  it,”  said  Philip.  44  How  about  her 
foster-sister?  Have  you  seen  her  yet?” 

44J3he  will  join  us  in  a few  weeks,  I expect,”  replied 
Lord  Lisle;  44  we  shall  all  return  to  England  together. 
You  must  go  with  me  to  GarcPs  studio  to-morrow,  and  see 
the  copy  he  is  making  of  my  dear  wife^s  portrait.  ” 

44  Miss  Lisle  does  not  in  the  least  resemble  any  of  the 
ladies  of*  our  race,”  said  the  young  man. 

44  No,  not  much.  But,  Philip,  related  as  we  are,  why 
do  you  persist  in  calling  my  daughter  Miss  Lisle?  Surely 
she  may  be  Margaret  to  you.” 

44  My  dear  uncle,”  replied  the  young  man,  his  face 
flushing,  44 1 should  require  desperate  courage  to  make  the 
attempt.  Believe  me,  at  present  I dare  not.  1 can  im- 
agine the  flash  of  those  black  eyes,  if  I venture  to  call  their 
owner  4 Margaret/  ” 

Lord  Lisle  laughed  with  quiet  amusement.  Rita’s  dig- 
nity and  hauteur  had  often  pleased  and  surprised  him;  and 


XOED  lisle’s  daughter. 


81 


now,  to  see  that  they  produced  the  same  effect  upon  his 
gay  and  handsome  young  kinsman,,  pleased  him  still  more. 

A new  life  began  for  Eita — a new  revelation  came  to  her 
under  that  Neapolitan  sky.  She  had  played  at  love  with 
Ealph  Ashton.  She  had  always  thought  of  it  as  a means 
to  an  end.  In  her  own  mind  she  laughed  at  all  pathetic 
stories.  Eiches,  honor,  title,  with  her  all  ranked  before 
love.  She  thought  but  little  of  it.  She  had  no  sweet, 
girlish  dreams  of  something  to  come  which  should  brighten 
her  life  and  change  it.  But  her  heart  was  waking.  She 
had  planned  to  herself  a marriage  with  Philip  Lisle,  but 
love  had  no  part  in  the  plan. 

Her  heart  was  waking  from  its  long  dream  of  vanity  and 
coldness.  Philip V face  haunted  her.  She  could  not  for- 
get it.  His  voice  sounded  ever  in  her  ears — so  gay,  so 
generous,  chivalrous,  and  noble.  Who  was  like  him? 
No  false  or  mean  word  ever  stained  his  lips — no  selfish 
thought  ever  came  near  him.  He  was  not  handsome  as  an 
Apollo,  or  gifted  with  the  keenest  intellect;  but  his  kind- 
ly, comely  face  had  all  the  charm  of  truth  and  nobility. 
One  felt  instinctively,  on  looking  at  him,  that  he  was  a 
man  in  whose  hands  honor  and  life  might  safely  be 
trusted;  and  withal,  he  had  a high-bred,  degage  manner 
that  fascinated  and  won  all  who  approached  him. 

The  time  came  to  Eita  when  the  name  of  Philip  Lisle 
sounded  like  sweetest  music  in  her  ears — earth  held  none 
sweeter;  when  to  be  near  him,  to  hear  him  talk,  to  feel 
his  admiring  glance  upon  her,  was  the  keenest  pleasure 
earth  could  give  her — keener  far  than  the  happiness  that 
she  found  in  wealth  and  honor.  She  began  to  study  him, 
to  lay  herself  out  to  please  him;  the  proud  face  softened 
for  him;  the  haughty  lips  gave  him  smiles  and  words  no 
other  ever  received.  It  was  a wonderful  love — wonderful 
from  its  concentration.  She  had  no  other  thought,  no 
other  idea.  To  have  won  him  she  would  have  laid  down 
her  life.  Such  a love  might  have  been  the  redemption  of 


83  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

another  woman;  in  that  grand,  erring,  ambitious  nature 
it  was  but  another  source  of  destruction. 

Philip  admired  his  cousin;  he  thought  her  wonderfully 
beautiful  and  most  wonderfully  proud.  He  was  kind  and 
affectionate  to  her,  after  the  manner  of  an  elder  brother; 
but  as  to  love,  he  never  even  gave  it  a thought;  it  never 
occurred  to  him  to  fall  in  love  with  Lord  Lisle's  daughter. 

It  was  a new  life  to  her — new  and  strange.  Beauty 
seemed  to  have  fallen  over  the  world.  Sunshine  and 
flowers  spoke  to  her  as  they  had  never  done  before.  Gen- 
tle thoughts  came  to  her — the  fierce  ambition  and  pride 
that  had  led  her  into  great  crime  faded.  There  were  times 
even  when  she  longed  to  be  good  and  true,  that  she  might 
be  worthy  of  his  love,  when  she  would  have  wished  the  sin 
“ unsinned.”  She  understood  him  well;  she  read  the 
loyal,  simple  nature  that  could  forgive  any  crime  save  one 
like  hers.  She  knew  that  if  ever  Philip  Lisle  should  learn 
what  she  had  done,  he  would  never  look  at  her  or  speak  to 
her  again.  u But  there  is  no  danger,”  she  said  to  herself 
— “ there  is  no  danger.  He  will  never  know.” 

She  tried  to  win  him.  She  used  her  beauty,  her  talents, 
her  wit;  but  all  in  vain.  When  the  blue  sea  was  calm 
they  sailed  for  hours  together  over  the  sunlit  waters  of  the 
bay;  they  wandered  through  groves  of  fragrant  orange- 
trees;  they  lingered  by  the  purple  vines  and  green  myrtle; 
but  in  no  place,  and  at  no  hour,  did  Philip  ever  utter  those 
words  she  longed  to  hear. 

Lord  Lisle  had  taken  a pretty  villa  on  the  outskirts  of 
Naples.  Beautiful  gardens  surrounded  it,  sloping  down  to 
the  water's  edge.  The  windows  were  thickly  covered  with 
creeping  flowers  and  bright  blossoms;  the  balconies  looked 
like  one  mass  of  evergreen. 

The  room  they  preferred  had  a large  window  opening  on 
a balcony,  around  which  the  vines  clung  in  profusion;  they 
hung  in  such  thick  clusters  that  one  standing  outside  could 
hardly  be  seen  by  those  in  the  room.  Lord  Lisle  liked 


83 


LORD  LISLE^S  DAUGHTER. 

that  balcony  better  than  any  other  part,,  of  the  house. 
From  it  there  was  a view  unequaled  for  beauty^ne  Bay 
of  Naples  lay  shining  in  the  summer  su^f  "the  distant 
mountains  raised  their  tall  heads;  all  the  luxuriant  loveli- 
ness of  the  fair  land  was  spread  out  in  one  gorgeous  pict- 
ure. In  this  balcony  Lord  Lisle  passed  many  happy  hours. 
He  learned  there,  too,  a secret  that  even  in  death  he  never 
forgot. 

One  morning,  when  Rita  was  busily  engaged  with  Mrs. 
Marche,  he  went  to  say  good-bye  for  a few  hours.  He 
kissed  her,  and  said  he  should  soon  return.  On  leaving 
the  house,  however,  Lord  Lisle  found  the  sun  so  warm 
that  he  resolved  to  defer  his  visit  until  evening.  He  re- 
entered the  house  unseen  by  any  one  except  the  servant 
who  admitted  him,  fetched  a book,  then  retired  to  his 
favorite  balcony  to  read.  The  shade  of  the  vine-leaves  was 
most  grateful,  and  he  was  congratulating  himself  upon  his 
wisdom  when  Margaret  entered  the  room,  and  Philip  fol- 
lowed her. 

“Lord  Lisle  is  out/’  said  Philip.  “I  think  I shall 
follow  his  example.  These  sunny  days  are  made  for  out- 
door enjoyment. 

“ If  a broiling  sun  gives  enjoyment,”  said  Rita,  “you 
will  have  plenty  of  it.  You  said  something  about  reading 
to  us  this  morning.” 

Philip  laughed  gayly. 

“ Imagine,”  he  said,  “ reading  6 Lalla  Rookh 9 on  a day 
like  this!  I never  can  be  sentimental  when  the  sun  is 
warm.  Ah,  Miss  Lisle,  I must  crave  pardon  for  my  bad 
taste,  but  1 think  a row  on  tharsmilingTeS^rfliHbe  better 
than  all  the  poetry  that  ever  was  written.  ” 

A pained,  wistful  look  came  over  her  face.  Lord  Lisle 
was  about  to  speak,  when  Philip  resumed,  ga}dy,  “ I am 
always  at  your  service,  but  1 think  our  reading  will  come 
off  better  in  the  evening;  my  uncle  enjoys  it  then.” 


84 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER, 


Something  constrained  and  unnatural  in  Margaret’s 
voice  caught  Lord  Lisle’s  attention. 

“ Let  it  be  so,  then/’  she  said,  quietly.  A beautiful 
bouquet  of  orange-blossom  and  myrtles  lay  upon  the  table 
near  her.  She  took  it  in  her  hands. 

‘‘How  fragrant  those  flowers  are!”  said  Philip.  She 
selected  the  prettiest  spray  of  blossoms,  and  held  it  out  to 
him. 

He  took  it  from  her,  held  it  carelessly  for  a few  mo- 
ments, then  laid  it  down  upon  the  table. 

“ The  perfume  is  overpowering  this  morning,”  he  said. 
“ After  all,  1 like  our  English  flowers  best.  Nothing  can 
equal  our  violets  and  lilies.  There  is  as  much,  and  just 
the  same  kind  of  difference  between  Italian  and  English 
flowers,  as  there  is  between  Italian  and  English  women. 
Do  you  not  think  so,  Miss  Lisle?” 

“ It  is  possible,”  she  said.  “ I like  the  fragrant,  richly 
colored  flowers  the  best.  ” 

Philip  laughed,  and,  with  a bow  to  his  cousin,  quitted 
the  room,  leaving  the  sprig  of  orange-blossom  carelessly 
upon  the  table. 

For  some  moments  she  stood  listening  to  the  echo  of  his 
footsteps.  The  sound  ceased  at  last,  and  she  knelt  where 
he  had  stood,  burying  her  face  in  the  flowers.  She  wept 
with  a passionate  abandonment  pitiful  to  see. 

“ He  does  not  love  me!”  she  said;  “ he  does  not  even 
care  for  me!  The  flower  1 gave  him  is  of  no  value.  He 
does  not  care  for  me,  and  I — oh,  dear  Heaven! — 1 love 
him  better  than  my  life!” 

When  the  passionate  fit  of  weeping  ended,  she  took  the 
little  flower  and  left  the  room. 

Lord  Lisle  saw  and  heard  it  all.  His  first  emotion  was 
one  of  unmitigated  surprise;  his  second,  one  of  profound 
pity  for  his  daughter. 

“ She  loves  him,”  he  said  to  himself.  “ I believed  her 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  85 

too  proud  to  love  any  man.  Ah,  if  her  mother  had  lived, 
she  would  have  known  what  to  do!” 

Lord  Lisle  never  mentioned  that  little  scene.  On  his 
daughter’s  face,  when  they  next  met,  there  was  no  sign  of 
love. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Lord  Lisle  continually  thought  of  that  scene — those 
passionate  tears — that  bitter  cry.  He  knew  that  his 
proud,  beautiful  daughter  loved  her  cousin  with  all  the 
force  of  her  heart — with  all  the  strength  of  her  nature. 
He  was  grieved,  for  he  saw  nothing  like  love  on  Philip’s 
part.  No  one  could  be  more  chivalrous,  gay,  and  kind 
than  Lord  Lisle’s  heir,  but  there  was  no  love  either  in  his 
looks  or  words. 

He  watched  his  daughter;  but  she  never  betrayed  her 
secret.  At  times,  when  Philip  spoke  to  her  suddenly,  he 
saw  her  face  flush  and  her  dark,  lustrous  eyes  grow 
brighter.  But  pride  and  hauteur  wrapped  her  round  like 
a garment.  He  could  have  believed  the  scene  he  had  wit- 
nessed from  the  balcony  a dream. 

He  saw,  too,  that  although  Rita  guarded  her  secret  as 
she  guarded  her  life,  there  were  times  when  she  was  jeal- 
ous of  every  one  else  to  whom  Philip  spoke.  The  pretty, 
fair-haired  Countess  Guardi  was  then  considered  the  belle 
of  Naples.  Fair  and  coquettish,  with  bright  eyes,  charm- 
ing smiles,  and  winning  words,  she  was  more  popular  and 
more  admired  than  any  other  woman  in  Naples. 

She  liked  Philip,  and  immediately  upon  her  introduction 
began  a little  flirtation  with  him.  She  gave  him  her 
brightest  smiles  and  gayest  words,  much  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  her  indulgent  husband,  who  looked  with  some- 
thing like  commiseration  on  his  wife’s  favorite. 

L It  was  all  innocent  nonsense,  and  the  count  knew  it* 


86  LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER. 

His  pretty,  petted  wile  must  have  homage  and  admira- 
tion. 

Lord  Lisle  and  his  daughter  received  many  invitations 
to  the  Villa  Guardi,  the  beautiful  and  luxurious  home  of 
the  fair-haired  countess.  She  was  fond  of  charades— of 
operettas — of  tableaus.  Miss  Lisle  charmed  her;  that 
dark,  magnificent  beauty  was  the  very  foil  she  needed  for 
her  own.  She  was  never  weary  in  arranging  tableaus  in 
which  she  could  act  with  Miss  Lisle. 

All  the  gayety  and  fashion  of  Naples  assembled  at  the 
villa;  dances,  soirees,  evening  parties,  morning  rides,  ex- 
cursions both  on  sea  and  land,  were  constantly  going  on; 
the  center  and  soul  of  all  were  the  Countess  Guardi  and 
Miss  Lisle. 

The  Neapolitans  raved  about  her;  the  fair  face,  with  its 
delicate  rose-leaf  bloom,  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes,  and  mag- 
nificent crown  of  black  hair,  had  a great  charm.  “ The 
beautiful  Miss  Lisle!”  Gentlemen  flirted  with  the  pretty 
countess,  but  they  admired  Miss  Lisle. 

Lord  Lisle  was  delighted  at  his  daughter’s  success. 
Mingling  with  this,  the  best  and  highest  society  in  Naples, 
her  manners  became  formed,  her  natural  taste  for  all  that 
was  elegant  became  developed.  He  saw  the  time  had 
come  when  he  might  safely  present  his  daughter,  and  the 
most  fastidious  could  find  no  fault  in  her. 

Eita  might  have  had  lovers  in  abundance — Italian 
counts,  French  gentlemen,  and  Austrian  nobles  would  fain 
have  wooed  and  won  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  rich 
English  nobleman;  but  she  smiled  upon  none.  She  ac- 
cepted their  homage  in  a queenly,  graceful  way  that  was 
infinitely  charming  and  full  of  piquancy. ' None  of  them 
had  pcwer  to  move  her.  Lord  Lisle  laughed  at  her  nu- 
merous conquests;  Philip  rallied  her;  Mrs.  Marche  was 
proud  of  her  pupil;  but  Eita  cared  little.  Her  ambition 
was  gratified;  men  hung  upon  her  words;  they  would  have 
risked  much  for  her  smiles;  she  could  rule  brave  and 


LORD  LTSLE?S  DAUGHTER. 


Doble  hearts,  touch  them  with  a look,  move  them  with  a 
word.  She  was  courted,  admired,  aud  flattered;  homage 
and  adulation  followed  her;  but  the  time  came  when  Rita 
would  have  yielded  this  sovereignty  of  youth  and  beauty 
for  one  smile  from  Philip. 

The  Countess  Guardi  sent  out  invitations  for  a ball. 
“It  was  to  be/’  she  said,  “a  faint  imitation  of  fairy- 
land.” No  one  was  asked  who  had  not  some  special  claim 
to  public  favor  — pretty  'girls,  eligible  men,  but  no 
“bores.”  The  number  of  guests  invited  was  small. 
The  rooms  were  splendidly  decorated  with  flowers;  the 
long  conservatories  were  lighted  up;  lamps  gleamed  like 
stars  amid  the  green  foliage  and  rich  blossoms;  pretty 
fountains  rippled  musically  out  in  the  pleasure  grounds, 
that  ran  down  to  the  shore;  the  lights  shone  amid  the 
trees.  Every  one  talked  of  the  recherche  entertainment 
given  by  the  fair  countess. 

Lord  Lisle  wished  his  daughter  to  look  her  best  on  this 
evening;  he  thought  it  impossible  that  Philip  could  help 
loving  her.  He  wished  his  nephew  to  see  her  in  the  full 
blaze  of  her  regal  beauty — the  queen  of  the  ball,  admired 
and  sought  by  all. 

The  same  idea  came  to  Rita  herself.  She  spared  no 
pains  over  her  toilet,  and  its  result  was  perfection.  Mis. 
Marche,  whose  taste  was  far  more  than  good,  chose  the 
style  of  dress. 

A rich,  sweeping,  flowing  robe  of  rose-colored  satin, 
shaded  with  costly  white  lace,  that  fell  like  a white,  soft 
cloud.  Costly  diamonds  were  clasped  round  the  white 
throat  and  on  the  fair,  rounded  arms.  Diamonds  glis- 
tened in  the  coils  of  black  hair  that  crowned  the  queenly 
head,  and  a beautiful  blush-rose  nestled  against  her  bosom. 

When  Rida  entered/he  room  where  Lord  Lisle  and  Philip 
awaited  her,  they  both  started  with  admiration.  Lord 
Lisle  kissed  the  beautiful  face  with  proud,  tender  aCeo* 
tion.  Philip  said,  gayly,  “Ah,  Miss  Lisle,  our  littla 


88 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


countess  will  be  eclipsed  this  evening.  Old  England  will 
show  her  supremacy.  1 place  myself  in  the  ranks  of  the 
red  rose.” 

Rita  was  charmed  by  the  fairy-like  scene.  The  soft, 
sweet  music  seemed  to  thrill  the  air;  rare  perfumes  came 
from  rose-flowers;  the  little  fountains  rippled  musically. 

44  There  are  pleasant  scenes  in  this  world,”  she  said, 
turning  to  Philip.  44  There  are  two  sides  to  life.  This  is 
the  bright  one;  the  other—” 

44  The  other  you  shall  never  see,”  he  interrupted. 
“Ah!  ma  belle  cousine , moralizing  in  a ball-room — how 
thoroughly  English!” 

44  Thoughts  fly  swiftly,”  she  replied;  44  the  ripple  of 
that  water  took  me  back  for  one  moment  to  Queen’s 
Lynne.  I was  on  the  sea-shore.” 

44  Forget  that  miserable  time,”  said  Philip,  warmly. 
44  We  all  try  our  best  to  make  you  forget  it,  Rita;  do  we 
not?” 

He  had  never  called  her  Rita  before,  and  a warm  flush 
covered  her  face.  The  rose  in  her  bosom  trembled  with 
the  quick  beating  of  her  heart. 

Before  she  had  time  to  reply  the  countess  joined  them. 

44 1 am  so  glad  you  have  come!”  she  said,  in  her  pretty 
broken  English.  44  My  rooms  seemed  dark  without  you.” 

She  spoke  to  Rita  and  looked  at  Philip.  He,  perfectly 
accustomed  to  the  lady’s  arrangements  of  look  and  speech, 
was  much  amused. 

In  a few  minutes  Miss  Lisle  was  the  center  of  a group  of 
admirers.  Then  she  showed  to  advantage;  bright,  witty 
words,  clever  sayings,  graceful  actions  and  movements 
charmed  her  courtiers.  Prince  Dalgarin  prayed  for  the 
first  waltz.  She  had  hoped  Philip  would  care  for  that, 
but  he  was  still  talking  to  their  . fair  hostess.  Count 
>d’ Arni,  one  of  the  proudest  men  in  Naples,  sued  humbly 
for  the  second. 

It  seemed  like  a dream.  She  was  strongly  haunted  that 


to RD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


89 

-night  by  the  recollection  of  Queen's  Lynne.  In  every 
pause  of  the  soft,  sweet  music  she  heard  the  sea  beating  in 
and  breaking  upon  the  shore.  She  heard  Ralph  Ashton 
crying  out  that  he  loved  her  and  could  not  live  without 
her.  It  was  like  a dream  that  she  should  be  queen  of  that 
brilliant  room;  that  men  of  noble  birth  and  high  estate 
should  sue  so  humbly  for  one  smile.  Yet  it  was  all  true, 
and  she  had  done  all  this  for  herself. 

44  It  has  prospered,"  she  thought  to  herself,  44  after  all. 

It  is  not  true  to  say  that  evil  never  succeeds — evil  has  been 
my  good." 

It  was  later  on  in  the  evening  when  Philip  sought  Rita's 
side. 

“ Can  you  find  time  for  one  dance  with  me?"  he  asked, 
gently.  44  You  are  surrounded  by  so  many  courtiers  I 
have  little  chance,  I fear." 

He  was  somewhat  startled  by  the  expression  of  her  eyes 
as  she  raised  them  to  his  face;  for  once  her  secret  shone 
there — passion  and  tenderness  lingered  in  their  dark 
depths.  In  her  heart  she  was  wondering  that  he  did  not 
know  how  utterly  indifferent  she  was  to  every  one  but 
himself. 

Her  only  reply  was  rising  and  placing  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  Rita  was  a good  dancer — graceful  and  easy,  every 
movement  full  of  harmony  and  the  very  poetry  of  motion. 

The  music  sounded  sweetly  and  softly.  She  never  for- 
got the  happiness  of  that  time.  Philip's  face  smiling  down 
into  hers;  Philip's  arm,  with  its  strong,  light  clasp  around 
her;  Philip's  voice  whispering  kind  words — it  was  one  half 
hour  of  perfect  happiness.  She  saw  admiring  eyes  follow 
her;  she  heard  murmurs  of  admiration  from  those  who 
watched  her;  but  she  was  indifferent  to  all  and  everything 
save  Philip. 

The  last  notes  of  the  waltz  died  away,  and  Philip,  turn-  *4; 
ing  to  her,  said: 

44  You  must  be  tired — " He  stopped  abruptly  as  his 


so 


lord  Lisle's  daughter. 


glance  fell  upon  her  bright  face.  He  saw  the  light  in  he* 
dark  eyes;  he  saw  the  blush-rose  in  her  bosom;  its  fra- 
grance came  to  him  like  a faint,  sweet  whisper.  Her 
beauty  had  never  struck  Philip  so  forcibly  before.  “ You 
should  be  tired,”  he  resumed,  “but  1 see  no  trace  of 
fatigue.” 

“ And  I feel  none,”  she  replied,  with  a smile. 

She  carried  in  her  hand  a bouquet  of  white  roses  and 
lilies.  Philip  bent  over  them. 

“ Give  me  one  of  those  flowers,  lelle  cousine ,”  he  said, 
“ in  memory  of  a dance  1 shall  never  forget.  ” 

He  meant  nothing  more  than  a pretty,  flattering  com- 
pliment, but  the  words  thrilled  the  girl's  heart.  She  took 
a delicate  rosebud,  half  shrouded  in  green  leaves,  from  her 
fragrant  bouquet. 

“You  will  leave  it  somewhere  to  fade  and  die,”  she 
said. 

“ Nay,”  replied  Philip,  gallantly;  “it  shall  live  near 
my  heart.” 

A shadow  startled  them.  Looking  up,  Rita  saw  the 
countess  by  her  side.  The  pretty  coquette  was  looking 
her  best  that  evening.  Her  rich  white  dress  was  looped 
up  with  white  lilies,  her  fair  hair  beautifully  arranged; 
white  lilies  drooped  from  it;  the  same  delicate  flowers 
nestled  in  her  bodice. 

“ I am  interrupting  a pretty  scene,”  she  said.  “ You 
English  people  understand  the  sentimental,  after  all.  Mr. 
Lisle,  1 have  been  looking  for  you.  The  Princess  Dorieti 
wishes  for  an  introduction.  Prepare  yourself  to  be  all 
that  is  fascinating.” 

Philip  did  not  respond  with  his  usual  alacrity,  and  a 
pretty  look,  half  smile,  half  frown,  came  over  the  lady's 
face. 

“ I see,”  she  said.  “ You  would  rather  remain  here.” 

“ Yes,”  said  Philip.  “ If  1 consulted  inclination  only 


LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER.  91 

1 would  rather  remain  here;  but  your  wish,  Madame  la 
Comtessa,  is  my  law.” 

“ I shall  be  glad  to  rest  here  for  a few  minutes,”  said 
Rita.  “ Do  not  mind  leaving  me  alone.” 

They  went  away  together.  She  wished  to  be  alone  to 
dream  over  the  happiness  that  she  believed  was  coming  to 
her — to  dream  over  the  words  and  looks  that  made  her 
music  and  sunshine.  Not  there,  where  at  any  moment  a 
gay  crowd  might  surround  her.  Rita  went  through  the 
long  conservatory,  out  into  the  pleasant,  moonlit  garden, 
where  the  lilies  and  roses  perfumed  the  night  air.  She  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  pretty  seats  placed  near  the  fountain. 
The  night  was  solemn  and  still;  pale  stars  gleamed  in  the 
darkling  sky,  the  moonbeams  gave  a silver  radiance  to 
water  and  trees;  the  flowers  were  sleeping;  only  the  roses 
seemed  to  be  awake  and  greeting  her  with  perfume.  Far 
off,  like  the  sweet,  faint  echo  of  a dream,  she  heard  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  music.  She  was  alone — alone  with  the 
beauty  of  the  summer  night  and  her  own  love. 

“ He  is  beginning  to  love  me,”  she  thought. 

He  had  called  her  Rita;  he  had  lingered  by  her  side;  he 
had  asked  for  the  flower.  He  would  love  her  in  time;  and 
earth  held  no  pleasure,  no  happiness,  for  her  save  in  his 
love.  She  had  believed  ambition,  pride,  and  love  of  ad- 
miration to  be  the  master-passions  of  her  life.  This  love 
was  even  stronger.  She  would  rather — ah!  ten  thousand 
times  rather — be  poor  with  Philip  than  share  the  throne 
of  a king. 

“ I love  him,”  she  murmured — “ who  never  knew  what 
love  meant — who  never  cared  for  it!  1 love  him — and  he 
must  love  me  in  return!” 

Nothing  like  pity  crossed  her  mind  for  the  man  who  had 
cared  so  much  for  her — who  had  left  her  believing  that 
she  would  be  true  to  him  and  wait  for  him. 

When  the  thought  of  Ralph  Ashton  came  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  loathing  and  contempt— a wonder  that  she  could 


92  LORD  LtSLE*S  DAUGHTER. 

ever  have  endured  the  sound  of  his  voice  or  the  touch  of 
his  hands. 

Out  among  the  lilies  and  roses  she  dreamed  of  the  love 
she  hoped  to  win— of  the  bright  future,  of  the  title,  the 
honors,  the  grandeur  that  awaited  her.  The  solemn  stars, 
the  sleeping  flowers,  the  whispering  night  wind  brought  no 
bright  or  holy  thoughts — they  brought  no  remorse,  no 
pity,  no  compunction — and  she  smiled  brightly,  thinking 
that  her  evil  deed  had  prospered  and  would  bear  good 
fruit. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

44  P6ilip,”  said  Lord  Lisle  to  his  nephew,  a few  days 
after  the  ball,  44  have  you  ever  thought  of  marrying?” 

Mi.  Lisle  laughed. 

44  As  a remote  possibility,  uncle,”  he  replied.  44  If  you 
ask  the  question  seriously,  I answer  seriously,  I have 
never  thought  earnestly  of  it.” 

44  Yet  you  are  old  enough  now,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  44  and 
you  know  many  nice  girls.  How  is  it?” 

44 1 have  not  4 met  my  fate/  ” said  Philip.  44 1 know 
clever  girls — beautiful  girls;  but  I have  not  yet  met  the 
girl  I should  like  to  marry.” 

Lord  Lisle  felt  something  like  a sharp  pang  of  sorrow  at 
these  very  honest  words. 

44  You  may  be  mistaken,”  he  said. 

44  No,”  interrupted  Philip.  44  Like  all  other  young 
men,  uncle,  I have  my  ideal  wife.  I do  not  care  so  much 
for  beauty;  but  she  must  be  fair,  and  sweet,  and  gracious, 
true  and  modest,  refined  and  sensitive — a kind  of  violet.” 
44  There  are  many  such,”  said  Lord  Lisle; 

44 1 believe  it,”  was  the  laughing  reply;  44  but  1 have 
not  yet  met  that  particular  violet  I am  destined  to  win  and 
wear.” 

44  How  can  you' know  that?”  asked  the  uncle. 


lord  lisle's  daughter.  93  - 

44  Because/'  he  replied/4*  I am  a great  believer  in  first 
love.  Some  day  I shall  meet  a young  girl,  and  I shall  say 
to  myself  the  first  time  I see  her,  6 1 must  win  her  for  my 
own.'  I am  no  believer  in  love  founded  upon  intimate 
acquaintance  and  constant  association." 

Lord  Lisle  sighed  deeply;  but  he  said  no  more.  There 
was  no  hope,  then,  for  his  darling  child.  Ah,  if  Philip 
could  but  know,  could  but  understand  the  treasure  he  had 
won! 

A few  days  afterward,  one  of  Philip’s  old  college  friends. 
Lord  Carlow,  came  over  to  Naples.  He  was  going  on  a 
yachting  expedition,  and  pressed  Philip  to  join  him.  They 
should  return,  he  said,  in  a month  or  six  weeks. 

Philip  looked  anxiously  at  Lord  Lisle  when  the  invita- 
tion was  given. 

44  It  will  be  a sad  interruption  to  all  our  gayeties,"  he 
said.  “Madame  la  Comtessa  will  lose  her  right  hand. 
Still,  if  Philip  would  like  it,  by  all  means  let  him  go." 

And  Philip  went.  Rita  lost  no  hope.  He  would  return, 
she  thought,  tired  of  the  sea,  tired  of  being  always  with 
gentlemen,  and  then  she  might  charm  him  more  easily. 

It  seemed  a strange  coincidence  that  on  the  very  day  he 
left  a letter  came  from  Daisy,  saying  that,  in  accordance 
with  Lord  Lisle’s  wish,  she  would  be  with  them  on  Tues- 
day. 

Lord  Lisle  was  unfeignedly  pleased. 

44  She  will  find  you  much  changed,  Rita,"  he  said. 

44  What  will  she  think  of  you?  Poor  little  Daisy!  we 
must  all  be  very  kind  to  her;  she  is  quite  alone  in  the 
world." 

44  When  is  she  coming?"  asked  Rita,  in  a low  voice. 

He  thought  she  was  agitated  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
her  sister. 

44  On  Tuesday,"  he  replied;  44  and,  Rita  darling,  I shall 
leave  the  arrangements  of  her  room  with  you.  Remem- 
ber, that  even  as  her  mother  took  you,  a poor,  friendless 


94 


LORD  LISLE  S DAUGHTER. 


child,  to  her  heart,  and  shared  all  she  had  with  you,  so  we 
must  make  her  one  of  ourselves.  She  is  to  be  treated  in 
every  way  as  your  sister.  1 shall  have  two  daughters  in- 
stead of  one.  You  know  her,  see  that  every  taste  and  wish 
is  consulted.  You  will  be  very  happy,  my  darling,  now.  ” 

“Yes,  very  happy,”  she  murmured;  “ and  1 will  see  to 
everything  for  Daisy.” 

Yet  if  for  one  moment  she  could  have  had  her  will  she 
would  have  smitten  the  gentle  girl  dead.  In  her  dream, 
in  her  all-absorbing  love,  she  had  forgotten  her,  forgotten 
the  danger  that  might  come  with  her,  forgotten  almost  the 
evil  deed  and  treachery  that  had  given  her  Daisy’s  place. 
It  came  home  to  her  like  a mortal  blow;  yet  she  was  pow- 
erless to  avert  it.  In  vain  she  watched  the  long  night 
through,  trying  to  think  of  some  plan  or  expedient  which 
should  keep  Daisy  away.  But  none  of  them  did  she  dare 
to  put  into  practice,  lest  they  should  excite  suspicion.  She 
remembered  the  puzzled  look  on  Lord  Lisle’s  face  when 
she  had  dissented  before.  She  dare  not  offer  any  more 
objections;  suspicion  and  mistrust  would  surely  follow 
them. 

“ I must  meet  it  boldly,”  she  said  to  herself.  “ I have 
played  for  a grand  stake;  it  is  worth  some  risk,  some 
bravery.  If  I meet  the  danger  boldly,  I shall  conquer  in 
the  end.”  4 8 ' 

She  busied  herself  in  superintending  the  preparations 
for  Daisy.  She  placed  flowers  and  books  in  her  room. 
She  told  Lord  Lisle  how  fond  her  sister  was  of  music;  how 
sweetly  she  sung.  A magnificent  piano  was  purchased  for 
her.  Had  she  been  the  daughter  and  heiress  coming 
home,  there  could  not  have  been  more  preparation. 

Rita  spoke  of  her  continually.  She  told  the  countess 
her  foster-sister  was  coming  to  live  with  her. 

Madame’s  first  question  was: 

“ Is  she  pretty?” 

When  Rita  answered  that  she  was  very  fair  and  sweet. 


LORD  lisle's  daughter.  95 

with  golden  hair,  the  color  of  Beatrice  Cenci's,  tnadame 
answered: 

4 4 Ah,  a blonde!  Then  I shall  dislike  her.  The  only 
blonde  in  the  world  I admire  or  like  is  myself." 

Which  very  characteristic  speech  being  repeated  to  Lord 
Lisle  by  Bita  caused  him  great  amusement. 

It  was  late  on  Tuesday  afternoon  when  Daisy  reached 
the  villa.  Lord  Lisle,  with  the  delicate  tact  that  distin- 
guished him,  thought  it  would  be  better  for  the  two  young 
girls  to  meet  alone. 

Bita  nerved  herself  for  the  effort.  Brave  and  coura- 
geous as  she  was,  when  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  her 
heart  beat  so  that  she  could  hardly  see  or  hear.  Some  few 
minutes  afterward  Daisy  entered  the  room,  and  Bita's  eyes 
were  drawn  to  her  with  a look  that  was  half  dread,  half 
fear. 

Daisy — a tall,  elegant  girl,  with  a sweet,  pure  face  and 
tender  eyes;  Daisy,  grown  and  altered,  yet  with  the  same 
smile,  the  same  spiritual  expression,  the  same  clear,  mu- 
sical voice,  and  the  face  so  fatally  like  the  pictured  face  of 
Dame  Sybella  Lisle. 

There  was  no  suspicion  in  Daisy's  heart.  She  clasped 
her  arms  round  Bita's  neck,  her  eyes  wet  with  happy 
tears. 

44  Bita,  my  darling,"  she  cried,  44 1 am  so  glad  and 
happy  to  come  to  you.  How  kind  and  good  Lord  Lisle  is! 
1 shall  never  be  able  to  thank  him.  1 can  not  possibly 
believe  that  I am  to  live  in  this  beautiful  home,  and  call  it 
mine." 

44  It  is  to  be  so,"  said  Bita.  44  We  are  to  be  sisters 
here,  Daisy,  just  as  we  were  at  Queen's  Lynne.  We  are 
both  to  be  Lord  Lisle's  daughters." 

Daisy  clasped  her  little  white  hands  in  a transport  of 
gratitude. 

44  It  is  like  a fairy-tale,"  she  cried.  44  Ah,  Bita,  what 
would  my  mother  say  if  she  knew  all  this?"' 


96  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

The  beautiful  face  into  which  she  gazed  grew  suddenly 
pale. 

“ Daisy ,”  said  Rita,  “you  startle  me  with  your  rapt- 
ures, and  iny  head  aches  to-day.” 

“ You  have  altered,  Rita,”  said  the  young  girl.  “ You 
are  beautiful  as  a picture,  sister  dear!  Ah,  it  gladdens  my 
heart  to  see  you  here!  Jewels  and  rich  dresses  suit  you 
well;  you  are  like  a rare  gem  in  a wonderful  setting!  Is 
not  Lord  Lisle  very  proud  of  you?” 

They  talked  long.  Daisy  had  much  to  tell — of  the 
kindness  she  had  met  with  from  her  friends;  how  deeply 
they  deplored  her  leaving  them;  of  her  unbounded  happi- 
ness at  the  thought  of  living  with  Rita  in  this  beautiful 
home. 

Rita  said  less.  She  spoke  of  the  year  they  had  spent  in 
Paris;  of  her  lessons;  of  her  masters;  of  Mrs.  Marche;  of 
Lord  Lisle;  but  she  never  even  named  Philip,  or  spoke  of 
herself. 

“You  must  be  very  happy,”  said  Daisy,  at  length; 
“ but  the  happiest  thing  of  all  is  to  have  found  some  one 
to  love  you.  I would  give  all  this  a hundred  times  over 
to  have  my  dear  mother  back  again.  ” 

Once  more  the  beautiful  face  grew  strangely  pale. 

“ Daisy,”  said  Rita,  “ you  will  make  me  quite  nervous 
if  you  talk  continually  about  dead  people.” 

“I  will  not  do  that,”  said  Daisy,  gently;  “but  my 
mother  is  never  long  out  of  my  thoughts.  You  have 
many  friends;  I had  but  her.” 

“ I will  take  you  to  your  rooms,”  said  Rita;  “ you  must 
like  them,  Daisy.  You  have  a suite  like  mine,  and  I fur- 
nished them  as  I thought  you  would  like  best.  We  will  go 
now,  and  when  you  have  changed  your  traveling-dress  I 
will  take  you  to  Mrs.  Marche.  ” 

The  two  young  girls  went  together  through  the  long 
galleries  leading  to  the  suite  of  rooms  Lord  Lisle  haa 
chosen  for  Daisy. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


97 


They  were  beautiful  apartments,  furnished  with  taste 
and  elegance.  The  boudoir  contained  a few  rare  pictures 
and  statues,  and  a magnificent  piano;  splendidly  bound 
books  lay  in  profusion  about  the  table. 

44 1 remembered  your  tastes,  Daisy,"  said  Rita — 44  books 
and  music.  This  piano  is  a gift  from  Lord  Lisle." 

Daisy  touched  the  keys  lightly. 

44  What  happy  hours  are  in  store  for  me!"  she  said. 

When  they  stood  in  the  pretty  chamber  a cry  of  de- 
lighted surprise  came  from  her  lips.  It  was  so  white,  so 
light,  so  elegant — the  toilet-table,  with  its  costly  orna- 
ments, the  long  mirrors,  the  white  lace  draperies. 

44  Rita,"  said  Daisy,  44 1 am  afraid  I shall  wake  up  and 
find  this  all  a dream.  Who  would  have  thought,  four 
years  ago,  that  we  should  exchange  the  little  cottage  at 
Queen's  Lynne  for  a home  like  this?" 

Then  Rita  closed  the  door  quietly,  and  stood  before  her 
sister. 

44  Daisy,"  she  said,  gently,  44  pardon  me  if  I venture  to 
say  something  to  you.  Try  to  forget  Queen's  Lynne.  Do 
not  get  into  the  habit  of  speaking  about  it.  Lord  Lisle 
has  suffered  so  much  during  the  past  that  any  allusion  to 
it  pains  him.  Take  my  advice,  dear  sister;  even  when  he 
wishes  to  talk  of  it  do  not  let  him — turn  the  subject 
adroitly.  It  does  him  infinite  harm.  Will  you  try  and 
remember?" 

44  Yes,"  said'  Daisy;  44 1 will  not  forget  it.  But  just 
own  to  me,  Rita,  now  that  we  are  alone,  is  it  not  strange 
that  our  lives  should  have  changed  so  entirely?" 

44  It  is  very  strange,"  she  replied;  44  and  now,  Daisy,  1 
will  leave  you  to  dress.  1 will  send  my  maid;  to-morrow 
you  will  have  one  of  your  own." 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Rita  would  have  been 
very  proud  of  her  dainty,  delicate  sister.  She  looked  like 
a sweet,  fragile  flower.  She  had  chosen  a dress  of  rich 
white  crepe;  the  golden  hair  rippled  over  her  neck  and 


98 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

shoulders  in  sunny  waves.  She  had  no  jewels.  One  whit® 
rose  lay  in  the  bright  hair,  and  another  was  placed  in  the 
bodice  of  her  dress. 

Mrs.  Marche  looked  up  in  surprise  as  the  beautiful  vis- 
ion came  into  the  room. 

She  welcomed  Daisy  warmly;  but  there  was  a puzzled 
look  upon  her  face  as  she  did  so.  Hours  afterward,  while 
Daisy  sung  in  the  evening  gloaming,  Mrs.  Marche  went  up 
to  Rita. 

46  My  dear  Rita,”  she  said,  44  there  is  nothing  I dislike 
more  than  curiosity.  Pray  pardon  me  if  I ask  was  not 
your  foster-mother — this  young  lady's  mother — a very  su- 
perior woman?” 

44  Yes,”  said  Rita.  44  Why  do  you  ask?” 

44  Because  I never  saw  any  one  so  innately  refined  as 
your  sister.  She  has  every  mark  of  good  breeding,  and, 
what  is  more,  of  good  taste.  Look  at  those  little  white 
hands;  they  are  like  rose  leaves!  Look  at  the  delicate  little 
ears,  the  beautifully  arched  neck.  If  I had  not  known,  I 
should  have  believed  her  to  be  4 descended  from  a hundred 
earls!'  ” 

With  a sore,  envious  heart  Rita  owned  the  truth  of  all 
that  Mrs.  Marche  said.  In  mere  point  of  beauty  and 
coloring  she  was  superior  to  Daisy;  but  she  had  not  the 
spiritual  face,  the  refined,  patrician  manner,  the  inde- 
scribable something  that  has  no  name,  yet  distinguishes  a 
true  lady,  and  is  seen  in  one  glance. 

It  was  almost  dinner-time  when  the  young  girl  received 
a message  to  say  that  Lord  Lisle  awaited  them  in  the 
drawing-room. 

44  Now,”  thought  Rita,  44  now  comes  the  real  danger. 
If  I escape  during  the  next  hour,  I have  nothing  to  fear.” 

There  was  no  trace  of  emotion  on  her  face  as  she  took 
Daisy's  hand,  saying,  44 1 will  take  you.  Remember,  w© 
are  both  to  be  Lord  Lisle's  children!” 

She  entered  the  room,  holding  her  sister's  hand. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER, 


99 


“ Papa/'  she  said,  gazing  at  him  the  while,  ‘ 6 here  is 
my  sister— your  other  child,  as  you  call  her." 

There  came  no  sign  of  recognition  into  his  face — only  a 
kindly  smile  of  welcome.  The  tender  eyes  were  raised  to 
his.  Lord  Lisle  never  understood  how  it  was,  hut  in  one 
moment  the  golden  head  lay  upon  his  breast,  and  the 
sweet,  fair  face  was  wet  with  tears. 

“ My  other  child!"  he  said,  gently.  “ My  dear  Daisy, 
welcome  home!" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Lord  Lisle  could  not  understand  how  or  why  this 
young  girl  made  her  way  so  quickly  into  his  heart.  She 
had  not  the  regal  beauty  of  his  child.  She  seemed  all 
soul.  Her  fair,  spiritual  face  charmed  him  inexpressibly. 
Her  voice  had  a strange  power  over  him;  it  struck  him 
like  the  sound  of  long-forgotten  music.  There  was  some- 
thing about  her  that  seemed  strangely  familiar. 

“ It  must  be  from  Rita's  description  that  I know  you  so 
well,  Daisy,"  he  said  one  day.  “ I feel  as  though  we  were 
renewing  an  old  acquaintance  instead  of  forming  a new 
one." 

She  won  upon  him  strangely.  It  was  perfect  rest  to  be 
with  her;  little  failings,  little  fits  of  impatience  or  irrita- 
bility seemed  to  die  out,  ashamed  in  her  presence.  She 
had  a calm,  brave  soul.  The  breath  of  worldliness  had 
never  ruffled  it;  passion  or  pride  had  never  marred  its 
purity. 

Lord  Lisle  liked  to  be  with  her;  he  liked  to  watch  the 
fair  features  bent  over  books  and  pictures.  He  enjoyed 
talking  to  her;  her  noble  thoughts  and  eloquent  words 
filled  him  with  wonder  and  delight. 

Rita  saw  all  this,  but  it  did  not  pain  her.  There  was  no 
dangar  in  it.  Lord  Lisle  was  perfectly  welcome  to  love 


100 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


Daisy,  provided  no  suspicion  of  the  truth  ever  entered  M* 
mind;  and  it  never  did. 

In  every  respect  the  two  girls  were  on  a perfect  equality. 
Privately,  Rita  managed  to  exercise  a little  authority  over 
her  sister;  and  Daisy  yielded  with  sweet,  smiling  grace. 
She  was  too  happy  for  any  small  troubles  to  annoy  hen 
She  had  never  thought  that  life  could  be  so  pleasant  or  so 
bright.  She  loved  Lord  Lisle  perhaps  more  than  she  had 
ever  loved  any  one  else.  No  mean  thought  of  jealousy  or 
envy  ever  came  to  her.  All  the  luxury  and  grandeur  that 
surrounded  her  belonged  to  Rita  and  Rita's  father;  she 
was  grateful  for  her  own  share  in  it,  and  envied  no  other. 

She  thought  often  of  the  great  contrast  between  her  past 
life  and  the  present.  She  never  forgot  the  kindly,  homely 
mother  who  had  striven  to  do  her  best.  At  first  she  avoid- 
ed all  mention  of  Queen's  Lynne  and  the  faithful,  honest 
woman  she  believed  to  have  been  her  mother. 

But  as  time  wore  on,  and  Lord  Lisle  began  to  find  his 
greatest  pleasure  in  sitting  with  Daisy,  he  himself  was  the 
first  to  mention  the  familiar  names. 

“ You  talk  to  me  of  Italy,"  he  said,  one  day  to  Daisy, 
“ but  never  of  England.  Tell  me  something  of  Queen's 
Lynne  and  your  mother.  Why  do  you  avoid  all  mention 
of  them?" 

“ I thought  it  pained  you,"  she  replied,  gently. 

“ Why  should  it?"  said  Lord  Lisle,  with  some  wonder. 
“1  hope  some  day  to  see  the  place  where  my  daughter 
spent  so  many  peaceful  years.  I hope  to  see  the  grave  of 
the  generous  woman  who  was  a second  mother  to  her. " 

“Rita  must  have  been  oversensitive,"  thought  Daisy; 
and  the  subject  passed  from  her  mind. 

Daisy  cared  little  for  the  pretty,  coquettish  countess; 
Rita  spent  whole  days  together  with  her.  She  had  no 
longer  the  least  fear;  she  laughed  at  the  foolish  doubts 
that  had  disturbed  her  before  Daisy  came.  Her  secret  was 
safe;  none  knew  it  but  the  dead,  and  they  tell  no  tales.  . 


101 


” BAUGHT  EH. 

Daisy  and  Lord  Lisle  were  thrown  much  together. 
Philosophers  may  say  what  they  will,  but  there  is  a strong 
and  mysterious  attraction  between  father  and  child.  Nat- 
ure speaks  in  a voice  that  can  not  be  mistaken.  Even  to 
himself  Lord  Lisle  never  owned  it,  never  even  knew  it, 
but  it  was  certain,  of  the  two  girls  he  loved  Daisy  the 
better. 

There  were  tones  in  her  voice  that  thrilled  the  very 
depths  of  his  heart.  She  had  some  little  actions  and  gest- 
ures so  like  those  of  his  dead  wife  that  they  gave  him  a 
strange  pang;  but  he  never  connected  the  two,  never  real- 
ized the  resemblance  in  voice  or  gesture.  Strange  to  say, 
he  never  even  observed  the  likeness  between  Daisy  and  the 
beautiful  picture  of  Lady  Sybella  Lisle. 

One  morning,  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  Lord  Lisle  said: 
“ Eita,  1 have  made  an  engagement  for  you  this  morning, 
and  Daisy  will  accompany  us.” 

“Is  it  anything  nice,  papa?”  asked  Eita.  “1  half 
promised  Countess  Guardi  I would  drive  out  with  her.” 

“ She  will  release  you  this  once,”  said  Lord  Lisle;  and 
Eita  never  thought  of  opposing  his  will,  although  an  en- 
gagement with  her  father  and  sister  had  no  great  charm 
for  her. 

“ Shall  we  drive  or  walk?”  she  inquired  again. 

“ We  will  walk,”  said  Lord  Lisle.  “I  am  going  to 
Signor  Cardins  studio;  he  has  been  painting  a picture  for 
me,  and  I should  like  you  to  see  it.  1 thought  of  asking 
him  to  paint  another — Daisy  and  yourself  together.” 

“ We  might  quarrel,”  said  Eita,  with  a smile,  “ if  we 
were  always  in  one  frame.” 

Signor  Cardi  was  delighted  to  see  the  two  beautiful  En- 
glish girls  of  whom  every  one  was  talking.  There  were  no 
other  visitors  at  the  studio,  and  Eita  resigned  herself  to 
what  she  considered  a dull  morning. 

“ I hope  you  will  be  pleased  with  the  picture,”  said  Sign- 


102 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


or  Cardi  to  Lord  Lisle.  “ Of  course  a copy  does  not 
allow  of  much  inspiration;  but  I have  done  my  best.” 

Daisy  wondered  at  the  emotion  in  Lord  Lisle’s  face  a3 
the  artist  took  the  covering  from  a large  picture  and  held 
it  up  before  them. 

Lord  Lisle  uttered  no  word.  He  gazed  for  some  min- 
utes in  deep  silence.  His  dead  wife’s  sweet  countenance 
shone  out  from  the  canvas  living  and  breathing.  The 
artist  had  succeeded  well;  the  eyes  were  full  of  tender, 
vivid  intelligence,  the  lips  half  parted  with  a smile. 

“ It  is  her  very  self,”  he  said  at  length.  Turning  to 
Eita,  he  continued:  “ Margaret,  come  here,  dear  child; 
look  well  on  this  face;  it  shines  now  among  the  angels. 
This  is  your  mother — my  beloved  wife.” 

She  came  forward  and  looked  with  curious  eyes  at  the 
picture.  For  once  her  self-possession  abandoned  her;  she 
knew  not  what  to  say — false  words  seemed  out  of  place 
just  then. 

“ I suppose  you  have  no  remembrance  of  her,”  said 
Lord  Lisle,  wistfully. 

“ No,”  said  the  clear,  cold  voice — “ none  whatever.  I 
was  too  young  when  she  left  me  to  remember  her  face.  ” 

Lord  Lisle  turned  to  say  something  to  Daisy,  and  was 
startled  at  her  appearance.  She  was  gazing  at  the  picture, 
her  hands  tightly  clasped.  Her  face  had  grown  white, 
even  to  the  lips,  and  an  expression  of  hope,  fear,  and  be- 
wilderment was  in  her  wondering  eyes. 

“ What  is  it,  Daisy?”  asked  Lord  Lisle,  feelingly. 

“ I do  not  know,”  she  replied,  confusedly;  “ but  it 
seems  to  me  I have  seen  that  face  some  time;  and  surely 
those  eyes  have  smiled  at  me!” 

“ You  have  seen  one  whose  features  resemble  these?” 
said  Lord  Lisle,  gently. 

“ No,  that  is  not  it,”  said  Daisy,  persistently,  yet  with 
the  same  appearance  of  struggling  to  regain  some  lost 
memory.  “ Ah,  now  I recollect!  Years  ago  I used  to 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  103 

dream  of  a lady  with  just  such  eyes  and  lips  who  came  to 
me  in  my  sleep. ” 

Rita  listened  in  silent  terror.  She  tried  to  speak,  but 
the  words  died  away  in  a harsh  murmur. 

“ The  young  lady  is  imaginative,”  said  the  artist. 

“No,”  said  Daisy,  in  a tone  of  quiet  conviction. 
“ Years  ago  I often  saw  that  face.  Do  not  laugh  at  me. 
Lord  Lisle,  but  it  seems  to  me  now  those  eyes  are  looking 
at  me,  and  the  lips  going  to  speak.” 

Lord  Lisle  was  startled. 

“You  are  nervous,”  he  said,  gently.  “ The  warm  sun 
has  tired  you.  Come  away  from  the  picture.  You  will 
laugh  at  these  ideas  to-morrow.  ” 

Did  the  dead  ever  speak?  Her  secret  was  known  to 
no  one  living.  Could  the  dead  reveal  it?  Would  those 
pictured  lips  denounce  her,  and  make  known  their  hidden 
crime?  These  thoughts  rushed  like  avenging  furies 
through  Rita’s  mind. 

She  was  slightly  reassured  by  Lord  Lisle’s  calm,  unsus- 
picious look.  At  length  she  said:  “Why,  Daisy,  that  is 
an  old  fashion  of  yours,  thinking  about  dreams.  You 
have  startled  me  in  that  way  before.” 

The  words  were  skillfully  chosen.  Lord  Lisle’s  face 
cleared. 

“You  have  a highly  nervous  temperament,  Daisy,”  he 
said,  gravely.  “ You  must  not  indulge  in  such  fancies.” 

The  danger  was  over,  and  Rita  breathed  again.  But 
Daisy  could  not  so  easily  forget  the  impression  made  upon 
her  mind.  The  picture  came  home,  and  was  hung  in  the 
grand  salon.  She  spent  many  hours  before  it,  wondering 
why  that  face  had  seemed  to  haunt  her — wondering  what 
was  the  secret  trembling  on  the  lips  and  shading  the  clear 
eyes. 

Philip  wrote  at  length  to  announce  his  coming.  Rita 
heard  the  tidings,  and  prepared  herself  for  the  final  strug- 
gle. She  resolved  to  win  him,  come  what  might. 

Y 


104  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

There  was  nothing  Lord  Lisle  enjoyed  so  much  as  hear- 
ing Daisy  sing  in  the  beautiful  Italian  gloaming.  When 
the  world  was  all  fair  and  tranquil,  the  water  rippling  in 
the  bay,  and  the  flowers  sleeping  in  the  sun,  she  would 
sing  to  him  for  hours  together.  He  never  forgot  those 
tranquil,  pleasant  hours.  Through  the  long  vine -clad 
windows  the  soft  summer  breeze  came  in  mild  and  warm. 
The  birds  sung,  and  the  flowers  bloomed.  The  pure  rich 
voice  found  its  way  to  the  very  depth  of  his  heart.  She 
sung  simple  love  songs — where  truth  and  honor  always 
prevailed  over  everything  else — and  old-fashioned  English 
ballads.  Daisy’s  singing  was  like  herself,  as  free  from 
affectation  and  as  simply  pure. 

One  evening  Eita  had  gone  with  the  Countess  Guardi  to 
a ball  at  the  Dalgarin  Palace.  Lord  Lisle  had  declined 
the  invitation,  Daisy  did  not  care  for  it,  and  Mrs.  Marche 
remained  with  them. 

“ You  must  give  me  a treat,  Daisy,  this  evening,”  said 
Lord  Lisle.  “ Sing  some  of  my  favorite  songs.” 

When  dinner  was  over,  and  Eita,  magnificently  dressed, 
had  driven  away,  she  sat  down  to  the  piano.  She  knew 
exactly  what  Lord  Lisle  liked.  They  were  in  the  grand 
saloon  where  the  pictures  hung.  As  Lord  Lisle > listened  to 
the  sweet,  tender  music,  and  looked  upon  his  wife’s  face, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  words  and  song  both  came  from  her. 

He  was  so  deeply  lost  in  thought,  Daisy  so  wrapped  up 
in  her  own  music,  that  neither  of  them  heard  the  door 
open  nor  saw  Philip  Lisle  enter  the  room. 

He  stood  silently  looking  on  the  pretty  scene  so  suggest- 
ive of  home  comfort  and  happiness.  His  eyes  lingered  on 
the  sweet  face  of  the  young  girl,  so  spiritual,  so  tender  and 
fair;  the  evening  sunbeams  seemed  to  kiss  her  golden  hair. 
The  clear  rich  voice  filled  the  room  with  music  sweeter 
than  any  he  had  ever  heard. 

“ I must  have  tired  you.  Lord  Lisle,”  he  said  at  last, 
rising,  and  crossing  the  room. 


rtORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER, 


105 


“No,"  he  said;  “I  should  never  tire  of  that  music, 
Daisy.  I have  a strange  feeling  upon  me  to-night;  some- 
thing tells  me  I shall  soon  see  that  dear  face  again.  " 

44  Who  is  nervous  now?”  asked  the  young  girl  with  a 
smile. 

44  Not  I,”  he  replied.  4 4 While  you  were  singing  the 
4 Land  o'  the  Leal/  a solemn  kind  of  rest  came  over  me. 
I shall  see  her  soon,  Daisy;  my  heart  tells  me  so.  My  life 
has  not  been  a very  happy  one.  I shall  understand  its 
sorrows  better  when  I have  seen  her  again." 

Before  Daisy  had  time  to  reply,  some  one  came  up  to 
Lord  Lisle's  chair — a strong,  kindly  hand  grasped  his. 

44  Why,  uncle,"  said  a cheery,  genial  voice,  44 1 never 
heard  you  speak  so  mournfully  before.  1 came  in  five 
minutes  ago;  but  the  music  bound  me  with  a magical 
spell." 

Lord  Lisle  started  up  and  greeted  his  nephew  warmly. 

44 1 am  glad  you  have  returned,  Philip,"  he  said. 
44  Now  let  me  introduce  you  to  my  other  daughter,  Daisy 
— Rita's  foster-sister." 

He  bowed  respectfully,  and  she  drooped  her  shy  eyes  as 
he  looked  admiringly  at  her. 

Almost  before  she  had  raised  them  again,  Philip  Lisle 
had  said  to  himself  this  was  the  girl  he  would  win  for  his 
wife,  if  it  were  possible  to  do  so.  That  was  his  ideal — the 
face,  the  figure,  the  voice  he  had  imagined  and  hoped  some 
time  to  meet. 

44  Rita  is  away,"  said  Lord  Lisle.  44  She  has  gone  with 
your  old  friend,  Countess  Guardi,  to  a ball.  Would  you 
like  to  join  them,  Philip,  or  remain  with  us?" 

44  Can  you  seriously  ask  such  a question?"  said  Philip. 
44 1 ask  nothing  better  in  life  than  to  stay  here.  I have 
many  adventures  to  tell  you,  uncle.  1 have  been  among 
4 strange  islands  in  glittering  seas/  do  not  send  me  into 
exile  on  the  very  night  cf  my  return." 

Lord  Lisle  sighed.  He  wished  Philip  had  shown  more 


100 


LOST)  LISLE’S  DAITGHTEk. 


anxiety  to  be  with  Rita — Rita,  who  had  wept  so  passion* 
ately  over  the  love  she  bore  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  sight  that  greeted  Rita  on  her  return  from  the  ball 
was  not  a pleasant  one.  Philip  sat  between  Daisy  and 
Lord  Lisle;  they  all  three  looked  very  happy,  and  were 
laughing  heartily  at  some  of  Lord  Carew’s  adventures. 

She  weighed  every  word  of  Philip’s  greeting  to  herself; 
it  was  kind,  even  affectionate,  but  there  was  not  that 
which  she  longed  to  hear. 

“I  do  not  find  Lord  Lisle  looking  very  well,”  said 
Philip  to  his  cousin  on  the  day  following  his  arrival. 
“ He  seems  weak  and  ill.  Have  you  noticed  any  change 
in  him?” 

“ No,”  she  replied;  “ perhaps  the  climate  does  not  suit 
him.” 

Philip  shook  his  head  gravely. 

“1  fear  it  is  something  more  serious  than  that,”  he 
said.  “ I can  not  forget  some  words  1 overheard  him  say 
to  your  foster-sister  last  evening.  I do  not  like  the  worn 
expression  of  his  face.  The  troubles  of  his  early  life  made 
him  old  before  his  time.” 

“ He  is  happy  now,”  she  said. 

“ Yes,  he  is  happy,”  said  Philip.  “ The  one  aim  of  his 
life  is  accomplished;  he  has  found  the  child  whose  loss 
nearly  killed  him.  Perhaps  this  may  be  the  reaction  after 
too  great  a mental  strain.” 

But  Lord  Lisle"  did  not  recover  either  health  or  strength, 
and  Rita  was  the  first  to  propose  their  return  home. 

The  suggestion  was  soon  acted  upon,  and  by  easy  stages 
they  were  all  once  more  happily  gathered  within  the  cheer- 
ful rooms  of  Lisle  Court. 

The  ailing  master  was  pleased  to  be  once  more  at  home 
—pleased  to  see  his  mother’s  gentle  face;  but  it  was  en- 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


10? 


dent  to  all  who  knew  and  loved  him  that  Lord  Lisle  had 
not  long  to  live.  The  knowledge  of  this  brought  a keen, 
sharp  pang  to  Daisy’s  heart;  to  Eita  it  gave  a sense  of 
relief  that  she  could  hardly  define. 

For  many  long  weeks  after  their  return  they  watched 
him  fade  slowly  and  surely.  There  came  to  him  no  vio- 
lence of  pain;  life  and  strength  ebbed  gently  away.  The 
most  learned  physicians  in  England  stood  by  his  bedside 
and  did  battle  with  grim  King  Death.  But  he  was  not  to 
be  baffled;  he  had  marked  his  prey.  During  those  long, 
sad  autumn  weeks  two  events  happened.  Philip  Lisle  fell 
deeply  in  love  with  Daisy;  and  Eita  found  that  without 
him  life  and  all  it  held  was  empty  and  dreary. 

Has  nature  no  voice — no  keen,  unerring  instinct? 
What  was  it  drew  Daisy,  hour  after  hour,  to  that  sick-bed? 
Lord  Lisle  took  all  his  medicine  and  all  his  food  from  her, 
Eita  looking  on  with  calm  indifference.  She  was  his  ac- 
knowledged daughter  and  heiress.  All  matters  of  love 
and  sentiment  were  of  no  consideration. 

Daisy  stole  gently  into  his  room,  and  watched  while  he 
slept.  Daisy  sought  the  rarest  fruit,  prepared  the  richest 
cordials.  As  his  strength  declined,  and  the  long  night 
hours  brought  but  little  rest,  she  sung,  in  that  low,  clear 
voice,  the  songs  he  loved,  and  hushed  him  to  rest. 

When  death  came  very  near  it  was  Daisy  who  knelt  by 
his  side  and  said  the  prayers  her  mother  taught  her;  it  wa» 
she  who  read  sweet,  solemn  words,  full  of  rest,  peace, 
and  hope. 

And  then,  in  her  heart.  Lord  Lisle’s  mother  would  wish 
this  fair,  gentle  girl  were  her  son’s  child,  instead  of  the 
proud,  haughty  beauty  who  looked  on  so  calmly  while  ho 
suffered. 

Death  was  drawing  nearer.  One  night  Daisy,  watching 
by  Lord  Lisle’s  side,  read  to  him  until  his  eyes  closed  and ' 
he  fell  asleep.  She  dreaded  awakening  him.  The  gray 
autumn  evening  closed  in;  the  fire-light  danced  fitfully  in 


108  tont>  lisle’s  laughthb. 

strange  shadows  on  the  walls;  the  lamp  stood  upon  a table 
near,  but  she  would  not  move  lest  the  sound  should  wake 
the  sick  man. 

He  slept  calmly  for  some  short  time,  then  a moaning 
cry  came  from  his  lips.  She  bent  over,  whispering  some 
gentle  words,  laying  her  hands  upon  the  damp  brow.  She 
was  startled  to  find  his  eyes  wide  open  and  fixed  upon  her 
face. 

“ Margaret/’  he  said,  “ are  you  come  to  me  at  last? 
My  darling  wife,  I have  pined  and  died  for  you!” 

“You  are  dreaming,”  said  Daisy,  gently.  “Do  you 
not  know  me?  I am  Daisy  Rivers.” 

A gleam  of  recognition  at  once  came  into  his  eyes. 

“ Who  was  it  whispered  to  me?”  he  asked.  “It  was 
not  you;  it  was  Margaret — my  wife.  I knew  her  voice. 
It  was  just  the  same  tone  in  which  she  bade  me  farewell. 
Ah,  Daisy,  you  did  not  see  her,  but  she  has  be§n  near  me.” 

Nor  could  she  convince  him  to  the  contrary.  Believing 
it  to  be  the  delusion  of  a dying  man,  she  did  not  contra- 
dict him. 

“ She  has  been  near  me,”  he  said,  “ and  I heard  her 
voice.  Before  the  surf  sets  to-morrow  I shall  have  joined 
her.  Daisy,  call  my  mother,  and  tell  Philip  I want  to  see 
him  now,  at  once!” 

Daisy  was  alarmed  at  the  gray  pallor  that  fell  over  his 
face. 

In  a few  minutes  Mrs.  Wyverne  was  by  his  side,  and 
Philip  soon  joined  her. 

“ Mother,”  he  said,  “ my  wife  has  been  to  summon  me. 
Do  not  leave  me  again.  I want  to  see  Philip  quite  alone. 
Come  back  after  that,  and  bring  Rita  with  you.  ” 

They  were  left  together — the  prematurely  old  man, 
whose  life  was  rapidly  closing,  and  his  young  heir,  whose 
future  lay  all  before  him. 

Philip  knelt  by  his  uncle’s  side.  The  bright,  dying  eyes 
were  fixed  intently  upon  his^  face. 


LORD  lisle's  daughter.  [ 109 

“Philip/*  said  Lord  Lisle,  “you  are  my  heir,  and  I 
iave  loved  you  dearly,  as  though  you  had  been  my  own 
son.  You  care  much  for  me,  I believe.  Living,  1 have 
been  kind  and  indulgent  to  you;  dying,  I ask  from  you  a 
favor.  Grant  it,  and  my  blessing  will  follow  you  through 
life.  Eefuse  it,  and  I shall  die  unhappy." 

“ My  dear  uncle,"  cried  Philip,  “ 1 would  do  anything 
for  you." 

“ Remember  your  words,"  he  continued,  with  a faint 
smile.  “ I shall  put  them  to  the  proof.  I ask  you  to  do 
what  some  men  would  be  proud,  beyond  all  words,  to  do. 
Philip,  when  1 am  dead  and  buried — when  the  time  for 
mourning  is  past  and  gone,  will  you  promise  me  to  marry 
my  darling  Rita?" 

In  the  hushed  silence  of  that  room  the  words  fell  clear 
and  distinct;  they  smote  Philip  Lisle  like  the  blow  of  a 
sharp  sword.  How  could  he  marry  Rita  when  he  loved 
Daisy  with  all  his  heart? 

“ She  is  very  beautiful,"  continued  Lord  Lisle,  wist- 
fully, “ and  very  clever.  She  will  be  my  heiress.  What 
more  can  you  want,  Philip?" 

What  more?  The  words  sounded  like  bitter  sarcasm. 
Trying  to  recover  himself,  Philip  said : 

“But,  my  dear  uncle,  it  is  quite  possible,  you  know, 
that  Rita  may  not  be  willing.  She  may  care  for  some  one 
else." 

“ Ah,  no!"  said  Lord  Lisle.  “ Bend  lower,  Philip;  let 
me  whisper  something  to  you.  People  see  things  more 
clearly  when  they  come  to  die.  Philip,  my  daughter  loves 
you.  I know  it.  One  day  1 found  it  out.  She  wept  bit- 
terly when  you  seemed  indifferent  to  her.  In  her  passion 
of  grief,  she  cried  out  that  she  loved  you  better  than  her 
life." 

“ Is  it  possible?"  cried  Philip  Lisle,  in  astonishment. 

“It  is  true,"  replied  Lord  Lisle.  “ I tell  you  her 
secret.  You  are  a Lisle  and  a gentleman;  it  is  safe  with 


110 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER* 


you,  I know  how  those  of  my  race  love,  how  fatally  and 
how  well.  Lying  here  on  my  death-bed,  my  daughter’s 
secret  troubles  me.  She  has  not  been  very  happy,  poor 
child!  Oh,  Philip,  make  it  up  to  her!  Promise  to  love 
and  care  for  her.  Promise  to  make  her  your  dear,  honored 
wife!” 

But  Philip  had  no  words.  With  those  pleading,  dying 
eyes  fixed  so  wistfully  upon  him,  he  could  sooner  have 
plunged  a sword  in  his  own  heart  than  have  said  “ No.” 
Still  he  did  not  love  her,  and  never  could. 

“ For  her  dead  mother’s  sake!”  pleaded  the  faint  voice. 
“ Let  me  be  able  to  say,  when  I meet  her,  that  our  child 
is  happy.” 

Still  no  answer  came  from  Philip.  There  was  a fierce 
struggle  in  his  heart,  a mighty  tumult  that  bereft  him  ol 
all  words. 

Suddenly,  upon  his  hands,  he  felt  warm  tears  fall,  and 
the  pale  lips  quivered  like  the  lips  of  a grieving  child. 

“My  only  child,  Philip!”  said  Lord  Lisle;  “my  only 
one!” 

Old  and  sorrowful,  weeping  and  dying,  Philip  could  not 
withstand  it.  Had  Lord  Lisle  asked  for  his  life  then,  he 
would  have  given  it  more  cheerfully  by  far  than  he  gave 
the  promise  that  wrecked  the  happiness  of  his  life. 

“ Hush,  my  dear  uncle,”  he  said;  “ it  shall  be  as  you 
wish.  I promise  to  make  Kita  my  wife.” 

A look  of  relief  and  pleasure  passed  over  the  dying  face. 

“ God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy!”  he  said.  “ I shall  die 
happy  now!  1 leave  my  darling  in  good  hands.  You  will 
be  kind  to  Daisy,”  he  continued;  “let  her  live  here  with 
my  mother  until  she  marries.” 

“ I will  be  kind  to  Daisy,”  said  Philip,  hoarsely.  He 
had  not  the  courage  to  refuse  his  uncle’s  last  wishes;  he 
could  not  turn  a deaf  ear  to  the  faint,  pleading  voice,  yet 
the  giving  of  that  promise  made  him  so  wretched  he  would 


LORD  .LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  Ill 

gladly  have  changed  places  with  the  man  whose  last  hour 
had  come. 

At  Lord  Lisle’s  wish  he  summoned  Rita  and  Mrs. 
Wyverne.  ^ 

“ Rita,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  44  let  me  speak  to  you  while  I 
have  strength.  Philip  will  tell  you  all  we  have  arranged. 
You  are  to  be  his  wife,  my  darling.” 

Philip  never  forgot  the  startled  joy  and  happiness  that 
came  into  her  face;  it  was  a new  revelation  to  him. 

44  Take  her  in  your  arms,  Philip,”  said  Lord  Lisle; 
44  tell  her  you  will  fill  my  place.” 

Philip  bent  over  his  cousin;  her  beautiful  face,  softened 
and  full  of  tenderness  as  he  had  never  seen  it  before,  was 
raised  to  his;  he  touched  her  brow  with  his  lips. 

44 1 will  take  care  of  you,  Rita,”  he  said,  gently. 

It  was  not  a very  enthusiastic  wooing;  there  was  no  rapt- 
ure on  Philip’s  face  as  he  looked  upon  the  girl  he  had 
promised  to  make  his  wife. 

Two  hours  afterward,  when  the  great  change  came  and 
Mrs.  Wyverne  summoned  Rita,  she  shrunk  from  the  sight 
of  death.  She  went  back  to  her  room,  and  knelt  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  hands. 

Lord  Lisle  died  with  his  head  pillowed  on  Daisy’s  arm; 
his  eyes,  unto  the  last,  lingered  on  her  face.  He  was  con- 
fused in  that  hour,  and  thought  she  was  Margaret,  his  lost 
wife,  come  to  fetch  him. 

* * * * * * * 

A week  of  gloom  and  sorrow  followed;  the  great  house 
was  hushed  and  still;  the  sunshine  was  not  allowed  to  visit 
it;  people  spoke  in  low,  hushed  whispers;  for  he  who  had 
been  the  loved  and  honored  master  lay  dead  there. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  came  at  last — a day  of  pouring 
rain;  the  long,  black  procession  wound  its  way  through 
the  dripping  trees;  even  nature  seemed  to  weep  as  Lord 
Lisle  was  laid  down  to  rest. 

After  the  funeral  was  over  the  will  was  read  in  the 


112  LORD  LISLES  DAUGHTER. 

library.  The  three  ladies  were  summoned;  Mr.  Kent,  the 
lawyer,  and  a few  friends  of  the  family,  were  there.  It 
was  a just  and  equitable  will,  leaving,  as  a matter  of 
course,  to  Philip  the  entailed  estate  of  Lisle  Court  and  the 
income  derived  from  it.  To  his  dearly  loved  child,  Mar- 
garet Lisle,  was  bequeathed  the  three  estates  of  Helsmeir, 
Endsleigh,  and  Thorne.  To  his  mother  the  late  lord  left 
a handsome  income,  and  the  same  to  Daisy.  The  annuity 
paid  to  Mrs.  Feme  and  Mrs.  Markham  was  to  be  con- 
tinued. All  old  servants  and  dependents  were  remem- 
bered. 

As  she  listened  to  the  lawyer's  montonous  tones,  Rita  sat 
like  one  in  a dream.  The  end  and  aim  of  her  life  was  ac- 
complished. Her  fraud  had  succeeded;  there  could  be  no 
more  danger — no  more  fear  of  discovery. 

There  was  much  to  arrange.  At  Lord  Lisle's  urgent 
request  Mrs.  Wyverne  consented  to  remain  for  some  time, 
at  least,  at  Lisle  Court.  Rita  and  Daisy  were  to  remain 
with  her.  Philip  himself  had  business  in  Scotland,  and, 
when  all  plans  were  settled  to  everybody's  satisfaction,  he 
Went  there. 

After  the  year  of  mourning  had  passed  it  was  Mrs. 
Wyverne's  intention  to  take  the  two  young  girls  to  London 
for  the  season.  It  was  high  time  that  Rita  made  her 
debut ; she  was  to  be  presented  at  the  birthday  Drawing- 
room, and  the  elder  lady  predicted  for  her  beautiful  grand- 
child a series  of  brilliant  triumphs. 

When  the  time  came,  Daisy,  much  to  Mrs.  Wyverne's 
surprise,  steadily  refused  to  make  any  grand  debut  in  the 
gay  world. 

“ I will  go  to  London  with  you,  dear  madame,"  she 
said.  66  The  truth  is,  I could  not  bear  to  be  parted  from 
you;  but  I think  it  would  be  absurd  for  me  to  attempt  to 
share  the  honors  and  privileges  that  are  Rita's  by  right  of 
birth.  It  is  only  through  Lord  Lisle's  bounty  that  1 am 


EORD  lisle’s  daughter,  118 

even  what  I am.  I have  no  claim  to  more.  I do  not  for- 
get that  1 am  of  lowly  birth  and  station.” 

Rita,  who  heard  her  sister’s  reasons,  said  no  word.  In 
her  heart  she  was  pleased  to  be  saved  from  the  continual 
presence  of  one  whom  she  felt  would  be  a formidable  rival. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  London  season  opened  brilliantly.  Lord  Lisle  went 
to  the  family  mansion  in  Grosvenor  Square.  Mrs.  Wy- 
verne  took  a beautiful  house  in  Hyde  Park,  and  went  there 
with  Daisy  and  Rita.  Mrs.  Marche  had  left  them.  The 
three  ladies  were  very  happy  together.  Daisy  was  the 
sunbeam;  her  sweet,  unselfish  disposition,  her  gentle  pa- 
tience and  interest  in  others  never  seemed  to  fail.  She 
listened  to  Rita’s  egotistical  conversation,  and  never 
wearied.  She  was  Mrs.  Wyverne’s  confidante;  and  Philip, 
Lord  Lisle,  despite  his  promise,  thought  the  day  dark  that 
passed  without  one  glimpse  of  her. 

Yet  Daisy  had  her  trials.  Before  Lord  Lisle’s  illness 
and  death,  she  had,  in  some  vague,  dreamy  way,  begun  to 
think  that  Philip  cared  very  much  for  her.  He  never 
seemed  to  forget  her;  he  had  talked  to  her  more  than  to 
any  one  else;  his  face  wore  a different  look  when  she  was 
near  him;  and  once — she  had  never  forgotten  the  day — 
after  singing  to  to  him  for  some  time,  he  caught  her  hand 
and  kissed  it. 

44  Daisy,”  he  said,  “ 1 hope  your  voice  will  be  the  last 
sound  I shall  hear  on  earth.” 

She  was  not  vain,  but  many  little  things  had  happened 
Which  made  her  think  that  Philip  loved  her.  He  had  not 
eaid  so  in  words,  but  his  eyes  had  told  some  passionate 
love  tales.  Modest  and  gentle,  she  had  treasured  these 
things  in  her  own  heart.  Daisy  was  not  one  to  love  un- 
sought; there  was  a quiet  dignity  hidden  under  her  affec- 
tionate manner  and  graceful,  winning  way.  'She  was  capa- 


fli  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

ble  of  loving  deeply  as  her  sister,  but  in  a different  way. 
Eita  would  have  schemed,  planned,  and  maneuvered  to 
win  the  one  she  loved.  Daisy  would  have  buried  her 
secret  and  remained  true  to  it  all  her  life. 

Vague,  happy  thoughts  of  what  might  be  came  to  her— 
sweet,  girlish  dreams,  in  which  Philip  took  the  greatest 
share.  They  were  never  of  rank  or  position — never  of 
grandeur  or  riches — but  of  him. 

On  the  night  of  the  late  lord's  death  she  stood  by  when 
the  engagement  was  announced,  and  heard  the  words — 
“ Eita  is  to  be  Philip's  wife."  In  her  pure  humility,  she 
felt  no  surprise.  After  all,  it  was  right  and  natural  that 
Philip  should  prefer  his  beautiful  cousin  to  one  so  lowly  as 
herself.  So  the  pretty  dream  was  dispelled — the  bright, 
vague  hopes  that  had  thrilled  her  heart  were  buried.  If 
she  suffered,  no  one  knew  it.  She  listened  to  Eita's  plans 
for  the  time  when  she  should’  be  Lady  Philip  Lisle,  and 
wondered  at  what  she  thought  her  own  vain  folly. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  one  May  morning.  London  was 
unusually  gay.  The  tall  trees  invthe  parks  were  green 
and  full  of  leaves;  the  birds  sung  in  the  branches;  crowds 
of  gayly  dressed  people  filled  the  wide  streets.  There  was 
a subdued  murmur  in  the  air;  the  roll  of  carriages,  the 
sharp  ring  of  horses'  feet,  the  pealing  of  church  bells,  and 
the  bands  of  music  in  the  squares. 

In  a superbly  furnished  drawing-room  Mrs.  Wyverne  sat 
on  that  May  morning  with  Miss  Lisle.  It  was  the  day 
after  her  presentation,  and  the  two  ladies  were  discussing 
the  triumph  she  had  won.  Every  one  agreed  no  such 
debutante  had  been  seen  for  years;  the  beautiful  southern 
face,  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes  and  profusion  of  black  hair 
were  rare  among  the  daughters  of  England.  Even  royal 
lips  had  spoken  in  praise  of  her  magnificent  loveliness. 

The  gay  world  followed  its  leaders;  before  that  day  came 
to  an  end  Miss  Lisle  was  established  the  belle  of  the  season* 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  * xty 

Her  triumph  exceeded  her  fondest— nay,  most  sanguine 
dreams. 

On  the  following  morning  the  breakfast-table  was  half 
covered  with  cards — invitations  for  balls,  soirees,  and  par- 
ties. Daisy  laughed,  and  a flush  of  grateful  vanity  crim- 
soned Rita's  face. 

44 1 told  you  so,  my  dear,"  was  Mrs.  Wy  verne's  com- 
ment. 44 1 wish  your  father  had  lived  to  see  this  day;  he 
would  have  been  proud  of  it. " 

Among  other  invitations  was  one  from  Lady  Carlyon — 
the  queen  par  excellence  of  the  fashionable  world.  She 
was  one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  popular  women  in  Lon- 
don, and  at  the  same  time  so  exclusive  that  to  belong  to 
her  set,  to  have  the  entree  to  her  house,  was  a stamp  and 
seal  of  superiority. 

Lady  Carlyon  always  gave  a ball  directly  after  the  Draw- 
ing-room. It  was  a gleaning  of  beauty,  fashion,  and  tal- 
ent. She  had  procured  an  introduction  to  Mrs.  Wy verne 
and  Miss  Lisle,  foreseeing,  with  her  usual  shrewdness,  that 
a new  star  had  arisen  on  the  great  world. 

Rita  held  the  pretty  card  of  invitation  in  her  hand  when 
Lord  Lisle  entered  the  room.  He  smiled  at  the  quantity 
of  notes. 

44  Lady  Carlyon!'^  ho  said,  in  answer  to  some  remark  of 
Mrs.  Wy  verne's.  Wherever  else  you  may  go,  or  what- 
ever you  may  forego,  you  must  go  there.  She  is  the  most 
exclusive  woman  in  London,  and  gives  the  best  balls.  One 
meets'  all  the  best  people  there.  If  you  make  an  effective 
appearance  at  Lady  Carlyon's,  Rita,  your  success  in  society 
is  certain.  When  is  the  ball?" 

44  On  Thursday  night,"  she  repKed. 

44  You  should  go  to  Madame  Durrand's  at  once,"  he  re- 
plied. 44 1 called  to  ask  if  you  would  go  to  the  opera  this 
evening. 99 

Daisy  raised  her  head  suddenly  at  this  question,  and 
Philip  caught  a wistful  glance  of  the  violet  eyes. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


1IC? 

“ You  would  like  it,”  he  said,  gently. 

“ Better  than  anything  in  the  world/5  she  said.  “I 
know  all  the  music  of  4 Trovatore/  but  1 never  heard  it 
sung.55 

“ We  will  go  this  evening/5  said  Mrs.  Wy  verne,  good- 
naturedly;  “ of  course  you  will  join  us,  Philip?55 

“I  intended  doing  myself  that  pleasure/5  he  replied, 
with  a smile. 

“Why  should  he  not  have  that  one  gleam  of  happi- 
ness?’5 he  asked  himself.  “The  time  must  inevitably 
come  when  Daisy  would  leave  them;  sooner  or  later,  some 
happy  man  would  discover  the  full  value  of  this  fair  pearl, 
and  win  it  for  himself.  Surely,  from  a life-time  of  sacri- 
fice, he  might  snatch  one  hour’s  brightness,  and  sit  by 
Daisy’s  side,  and  look  in  her  pure,  fair  face  without 
wrong?’5 

Lord  Lisle  was  proud  of  the  ladies  he  escorted.  Rita 
wore  a superb  dress  of  sheeny,  gleaming  white  and  gold; 
rich  rubies  flashed  from  the  coils  of  dark  hair  and  shone 
upon  her  neck  and  arms.  Daisy  looked  fresh  and  fair  as  a 
spring  morning;  her  dress  of  white  lace  had  no  ornament 
save  the  pretty  violets  that  looped  it  up.  Purple  violets 
nestled  in  the  ripples  of  golden  hair.  She  carried  a bou- 
quet of  the  same  sweet  flowers  in  her  hands.  In  personal 
beauty  she  was  inferior  to  Rita,  but  Rita  lacked  the  grace- 
ful patrician  manner  that  characterized  her  sister. 

Philip  was  charmed  beyond  all  prudence.  He  sat  by  the 
side  of  the  woman  he  had  promised  to  marry,  looking  at 
the  girl  he  had  so  fervently  loved. 

Mrs.  Wyverne’s  box  was  the  great  center  of  attraction 
that  evening.  No  one  was  so  captivated  by  Rita  as  Cap- 
tain Darcy.  He  was  introduced  to  her  by  Lord  Lisle  as 
one  of  .his  friends,  and  at  the  first  glance  of  her  eyes  fell  a 
victun  to  theh  light — fell,  without  any  hope  or  chance  of 
recovery,  fathoms  deep  in  love. 

Philip  looked  on  with  quiet  amusement.  Ah,  if  it  could 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


lit 

only  be  so!  If  Eita  were  free,  and  he  were  free!  If  he 
might  woo  that  fair,  gentle  girl  for  his  wife,  life  would  re- 
cover its  lost  charm!  It  was  too  late  for  such  dreams! 
The  die  was  cast — his  honor  pledged ! Let  his  heart  ache 
ever  so  much,  he  must  marry  Margaret  Lisle! 

But  for  this  one  evening  he  yielded  himself  to  the 
charm.  Captain  Darcy  rushed  on  to  his  fate,  lingering  by 
Eita,  while  Philip  talked  to  Daisy. 

How  faii^and  pure  she  was!  The  delicate  bloom  in  her 
face,  that  deepened  at  his  every  word;  the  tender  radiance 
of  those  clear  eyes;  the  perfume  of  the  violets  she  carried 
had  some  secret,  subtle  charm  for  him.  For  many  long 
months  afterward  that  same  perfume  struck  him  with  a 
sense  of  pain. 

It  must  end.  Lord  Lisle  left  Daisy  with  a deep  sigh, 
and  a shadow  on  his  bright  face.  Mrs.  Wyverne  heard  the 
sigh,  and  saw  the  look,  but  misunderstood  both. 

She  pitied  Philip,  and  thought  him  jealous  of  Captain 
Darcy.  Until  the  opera  ended  she  sat  making  up  her 
mind  that  on  this  very  evening  she  would  speak  to  him,  as 
she  had  long  intended  to  do. 

“ Call  to-morrow  morning,  Philip,”  she  said,  as  Lord 
Lisle  left  them;  “ 1 want  to  see  you  particularly.” 

Going  home  that  evening  Philip  made  some  excellent 
resolutions.  He  loved  Daisy;  how  could  he  help  it?  But 
he  would  not  break  his  promise.  For  the  future  he  would 
avoid  her;  her  presence  had  a fascination  for  him  that  no 
words  could  describe.  From  this  evening  he  would  avoid 
her,  and  keep  his  honor  intact. 

Mrs.  Wyverne  received  Lord  Lisle  in  her  own  room,  giv- 
ing orders  that  she  was  at  home  to  no  one  else. 

“Philip,”  she  said,  “be  seated.  I shall  detain  you 
some  time.  What  I have  to  say  is  important.  Have  you 
decided  when  your  marriage  with  Eita  is  to  take  place?” 

The  question  came  to  him  like  a sharp  blow;  for  one 
half  moment  it  unnerved  him. 


118 


lord  lisle's  daughter. 


“ 1 have  not  thought  about  it  yet/*  he  said;'  “ there  is 
no  immediate  hurry,  1 suppose?** 

“ No/*  she  replied;  “but  your  engagement  should  be 
made  known.  It  will  save  many  disappointments  and 
much  mortification.  That  poor  Captain  Darcy  fell  quite 
in  love  last  night  with  Rita.** 

“ She  did  not  seem  to  reciprocate  it/*  he  said,  with  a 
smile. 

“No/*  replied  Mrs.  Wyyerne;  “Rita  sees,  hears,  and 
cares  for  no  one  but  yourself.** 

Which  information  would  have  been  pleasant  enough 
had  Philip  been  of  the  same  mind. 

“ It  should  be  made  known  at  once;  and  I think,  unless 
you  see  any  obstacle,  that  the  marriage  should  take  place 
at  the  end  of  the  season.  Any  longer  delay  would  be  use- 
less.** 

Ah!  useless,  indeed.  No  delay  could  avert  his  fate. 
Let  the  blow  fall  quickly. 

“ Whenever  you  wish,  madame/*  he  said,  wearily. 

She  looked  up  in  wonder  at  his  tone. 

“ Your  own  wish  must  dictate  to  you/*  she  said,  “ not 
mine.  I merely  advise  the  autumn.  Do  you  think  that 
time  will  suit?’* 

“ 1 see  no  objection  to  it/*  said  Philip. 

“ Then  you  had  better  speak  to  Rita  about  it.  She  is 
not  in  now;  but  if  you  like  to  call  this  evening  we  shall  be 
all  pleased  to  see  you.** 

“ 1 have  an  engagement  this  evening/*  he  replied.  “ I 
shall  meet  you  all  at  Lady  Carlyon*s  to-morrow  evening, 
and  I will  mention  it  to  her  then.** 

As  Philip  closed  the  door  behind  him,  thankful  the  in- 
terview was  ended,  Mrs.  Wyverne  sighed  deeply. 

“ 1 can  not  understand  them/*  she  said — “these  men 
of  the  present  day.  What  an  unfortunate  love  affair  my 
poor  son’s  was,  and  here  is  Philip — he  talks  of  love  and 
marriage  far  more  coolly  than  he  would  of  a new  picture  1 

~ ~ 1 


LORD  LISLES  DAUGHTER.  ll9 

I can  not  understand  it.  Surely  the  ancient  spirit  of 
chivalry  must  have  died  away?” 

As  Lord  Lisle  was  leaving  the  house  he  met  Daisy  just 
coming  in  from  the  garden.  Her  hands  were  full  of  pretty 
flowers;  she  herself  looked  like  their  queen. 

“ What  is  the  matter.  Lord  Lisle?”  she  asked,  looking 
at  his  sad,  tired  face.  44  Have  you  heard  bad  news?” 

“ No,  Daisy,”  he  replied,  taking  the  flowers  from  her 
hands  and  clasping  the  little  fingers  in  his  own.  44  Help 
me  to  be  very  brave.  I have  sorrow  to  bear;  tell  me  how 

to  bear  it.”  ^ 

44  Bravely!”  she  said,  her  face  glowing  with  light— 
44  bravely,  as  great  men  and  great  heroes  do!” 

44 1 am  no  hero,”  he  said,  sadly. 

44  Any  man  is  a hero  who  bears  a sorrow  in  silence  and 
well,”  Daisy  continued — 44  and  there  are  many  such  in  the 
world.  ” 

44 1 will  try  to  be  one  of  them,”  he  said.  44  Daisy,  say 
4 God  bless  you/  ” 

She  repeated  the  words,  and  he  left  her  wondering  what 
had  saddened  and  wearied  him  on  that  bright  May  morn- 
ing, when  every  one  else  looked  happy  and  gay. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

44 1 shall  not  see  your  triumphs,  Rita,”  said  Daisy; 
44  but  1 shall  hear  of  them.  Lady  Carlyou  must  be  diffi- 
cult to  please  if  she  is  not  charmed  with  you.” 

Rita  stood  before  the  large  mirror  in  her  dressing-room, 
and  Daisy,  with  gentle  hands,  was  adding  some  last  finish- 
ing touches  to  her  toilet.  She  had  never  looked  more 
beautiful.  Mrs.  Wyverne,  unable  to  keep  the  secret,  had 
whispered  to  her  that  Philip  was  going  to  ask  her  a mo- 
mentous question  that  evening,  and  she  had  prepared  for  a 
grand  triumph. 

The  dress  chosen  was  one  that  enhanced  and  increased 


m 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER* 


her  regal  beauty.  It  was  of  the  richest  green  velvet, 
shaded  with  delicate  white  lace,  and  trimmed  with  golden 
fringe.  Mrs*  Wyverne  had  wished  her  to  wear  nothing 
but  diamonds;  they  circled  her  graceful  head  like  points 
of  flame;  they  were  clasped  round  her  firm  white  throat 
and  beautiful  arms;  they  suited  her  well. 

Daisy  had  selected  her  bouquet;  it  was  of  scarlet  verbena 
and  white  heath. 

4 6 It  requires  just  that  dash  of  crimson  to  make  the  pict- 
ure complete,”  she  said,  laughingly. 

44  You  are  always  thinking  of  pictures,  Daisy,”  said 
Mrs.  Wyverne. 

44  Because  I love  them,”  she  replied.  44  Now,  Bita 
darling,  have  you  everything?  It  is  growing  late.” 

She  took  from  the  table  a beautiful  fan.  The  handle 
was  wrought  in  pure  gold.  It  was  made  of  rare  white 
feathers  light  as  down. 

44 1 never  saw  any  one  manage  a fan  better  than  you, 
Bita,”  she  said;  “you  must  have  a code  for  it.  Hold 
that  open,  my  dear,  and  let  me  look  at  you.  ” 

Bita  opened  the  fan,  and  the  delicate  feathers  touched 
her  white  neck. 

44  That  will  do,”  said  Daisy;  44 1 am  quite  satisfied  with 
my  picture.” 

44  Would  not  you  like  to  go  with  us?”  asked  Bita,  com- 
placently regarding  herself  in  the  glass. 

44  Yes,  for  some  reasons;  no,  for  others,”  replied  the 
young  girl.  44  Now,  Therese,  the  opera-cloak,  please; 
Miss  Lisle  will  be  late.” 

The  crimson  cloak  was  thrown  over  the  white,  polished 
shoulders,  and  Bita  swept  out  of  the  room,  followed  by 
Mrs.  Wyverne. 

It  was  a brilliant  night.  In  the  dark  after-days  Bita 
. looked  back  to  it  as  the  crowning  hour  of  her  triumph. 

Lady  Carlyon's  rooms  were  magnificently  decorated; 


LORt)  LISLE*  S DAUGHTER*  121 

lights  shone  like  stars  from  costly  flowers  that  rose  in 
tiers,  each  one  more  brilliant  than  the  other. 

Azaleas  and  crimson  fuchsias,  golden  calceolarias,  mag- 
nificent pelargoniums,  delicate  heath,  heliotropes,  roses  of 
every  kind  and  hue  formed  a gorgeous  background.  Here 
and  there,  between  the  bright  flowers,  one  caught  sight  of 
a white  marble  statue.  The  whole  suite  of  rooms  was 
illuminated.  Leading  into  the  large  conservatory,  pretty 
scented  fountains  rippled  there — a large  one  in  the  midst, 
shaped  like  a huge  lily,  from  which  the  water  fell  with  a 
musical  rhythm  and  cadence  that  soothed  and  charmed 
the  ear. 

Almost  the  first  gentleman  who  accosted  Eita  was  Cap- 
tain Darcy.  His  happiness  was  complete  when  he  had 
secured  her  hand  for  the  first  waltz; 

She  was  soon  surrounded  by  her  court  of  admirers. 
Never  had  the  beautiful  face  shone  brighter;  never  had 
the  brilliant  wit  and  quick  powers  of  repartee  been  shown 
to  greater  advantage. 

Miss  Lisle  was  undoubtedly  the  queen  of  that  gay 
throng.  Lady  Carlyon  was  charmed  with  her.  Philip 
could  not  help  feeling  proud  of  her;  nor  could  he  help 
seeing  the  different  way  in  which  she  treated  him.  To 
others  she  was  charming  and  gracious  in  her  peculiar, 
haughty  manner;  for  him  her  whole  nature  seemed  to 
change — her  face  softened,  her  dark  eyes  drooped — he 
could  not  help  seeing  how  great  was  his  power  over  that 
proud,  ambitious  heart. 

As  he  watched  her,  the  center  of  all  homage  and  admi- 
ration, he'  felt  that  she  would  fill  well  the  place  of  Lady 
Lisle.  She  would  do  him  credit;  she  would  be  one  of  the 
fairest  branches  on  the  family  tree;  she  would  receive  the 
homage  of  all  the  great  world,  and  it  wduld  reflect  fresh 
glory  on  his  name;  but,  for  all  that,  he  sighed  when  he 
recalled  a fair,  sweet  face  framed  in  golden  hair,  and  elo- 
quent eyes  full  of  truth  and  candor. 


LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER. 


122 

It  could  never  be — "that  fair  vision  must  fade  from  him; 
he  must  linger  no  more  by  Daisy’s  side;  honor  called  him 
elsewhere.  Yet  that  night*  when  the  girl  he  had  promised 
to  marry  shone  like  a peerless  queen  among  her  compeers* 
he  would  have  given  title*  wealth,  rank — everything  save 
honor — for  his  freedom. 

Those  who  saw  Lord  Lisle  that  evening  wondered  at  the 
strange*  gloomy  expression  of  his  face.  He  had  a task  be- 
fore him;  the  sooner  it  was  accomplished  the  better;  he  was 
to  ask  Margaret  Lisle  when  she  would  become  his  wife. 

There  was  some  slight  sensation  just  after  supper.  A 
royal  duke*  a great  admirer  of  Lady  Carlyon*  “ looked  in.” 
His  grace  happened  to  be  in  a particularly  happy  and 
genial  state  of  mind.  He  congratulated  Lady  Carlyon 
upon  the  magnificent  appearance  of  her  rooms*  and  put 
the  final  stroke  to  his  amiability  by  requesting  an  intro- 
duction to  Miss  Lisle. 

Lady  Carlyon  was  delighted.  It  was  the  proudest  mo- 
ment of  Rita’s  life.  Every  eye  was  turned  upon  her. 
She  stood  erect  in  the  pride  of  her  magnificent  beauty*  and 
his  royal  highness  bent  before  her*  dazzled  by  the  light  of 
that  wondrous  face. 

He  murmured  some  few  complimentary  words*  and  then 
solicited  the  favor  of  one  waltz.  The  keenest  observer 
could  not  have  detected  one  passing  gleam  of  triumph  in 
the  dark  eyes;  the  snowy  plumage  of  the  gorgeous  fan  did 
not  flutter  as  she  held  it  against  her  bosom. 

Accustomed  to  stately  beauties  and  ladies  of  high  degree* 
the  duke*  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes*  said  to  himself  that  the 
debutante  surpassed  them  all. 

Rita  saw  the  envious  and  admiring  glances  that  followed 
her  every  movement;  she  knew  that  the  homage  of  her 
royal  partner  would  give  a stamp  and  seal  to  her  popu- 
larity— would  set  her  far  above  all  rivals.  Even  while  she 
was  in  the  whirl  of  the  dauce*  she  thought  of  all  these 
things.  One  idea  was  paramount — Lord  Lisle  would  see 


LORD  LISLE* S DAUGHTER.  123 

how  others  worshiped  her,  and  it  might  make  him  more 
eager  in  his  wooing. 

When  the  waltz  ended,  and  the  duke  returned  with  his 
beautiful  partner  to  the  seat  she  had  left.  Lord  Lisle  was 
there  with  Lady  Carlyon.  Rita's  triumph  was  complete. 
His  royal  highness  danced  no  more;  during  the  few  min- 
utes that  he  remained  he  lingered  by  her  side;  when  he 
bade  her  adieu,  it  was  with  a wish,  most  flatteringly  ex- 
pressed, that  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
again. 

It  was  a lesson  in  worldliness  to  see  how  she  was  sur- 
rounded then.  Yet  no  one  could  discern  the  faintest  con- 
sciousness of  her  success.  Her  smiles  were  brighter  and 
more  charming  than  usual;  nothing  else  denoted  any 
elation. 

Lord  Lisle  was  struck  with  what  he  saw.  Surely  this 
girl,  from  whom  he  would  so  gladly  have  freed  himself, 
must  have  fascinations  that  he  did  not  understand.  All 
around  him  people  were  talking  of  her;  the  men  in 
warmest,  most  extravagant  terms;  the  ladies,  with  affected 
candor  and  ill-concealed  jealousy.  How  was  it  that  he 
alone  of  all  the  world  was  untouched  by  her  beauty,  un- 
charmed by  her  stately  grace? 

“You  look  rather  tired,"  said  Lady  Carlyon  to  Miss 
Lisle.  “ You  have  danced  every  dance,  I believe.  Lord 
Lisle,  where  is  your  gallantry?  Miss  Lisle  would  perhaps 
like  to  walk  through  the  rooms.  A few  minutes  in  the 
conservatory  would  be  refreshing;  it  is  cool  and  fragrant." 

With  a silent  bow  Philip  offered  his  arm  to  Rita,  and 
they  walked  through  the  long  suite  of  rooms. 

“ Opportunities  are  given  to  most  men,"  said  Philip. 
“ I had  better  make  the  most  of  mine,  as  I have  a ques- 
tion to  ask  to-night.  I will  ask  it  now  and  here." 

There  was  no  one  in  the  conservatory.  Philip  placed  a 
chair  for  Rita  near  the  pretty  lily-shaped  fountain. 

^ “ There  could  not  be  a more  pleasant  place  to  repose,” 


124 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter. 


* • 


he  said.  “It  is  cool,  fragrant,  and  quiet;  the  sound  of 
this  falling  water  lulls  one  to  rest.” 

She  was  gazing  dreamily  into  the  rippling  water;  the 
music  of  it  took  her  back  to  Queen's  Lynne.  She  saw  a 
gorgeous  evening  sky,  a stretch  of  golden  sand,  and  a sun- 
lit, smiling  sea.  She  saw  a dark,  handsome  face  looking 
in  her  own;  her  hands  seemed  to  burn  where  those  pas- 
sionate kisses  had  fallen;  words  such  as  she  would  never 
hear  again  sounded  once  more  in  her  ear. 

“ How  he  loved  me,”  she  thought;  “ and  I never  cared 
for  him!” 

“Rita,”  said  the  low  voice  of  Philip  Lisle,  “can  you 
spare  me  a few  moments?  I have  something  very  par- 
ticular to  say  to  you.” 

She  raised  her  eyes  from  the  rippling  water  and  looked 
anxiously  at  him. 

But  Lord  Lisle  was  puzzled  what  to  say.  Had  Daisy 
been  sitting  there  he  would  have  simply  said: 

“ Tell  me,  Daisy,  when  will  you  be  my  wife.” 

He  was  too  honest  to  feign  a love  he  did  not  feel,  yet  he 
wished  to  be  kind  and  affectionate  to  the  young  girl  his 
dying  kinsman  had  confided  to  him. 

“ Do  you  remember  the  evening  your  father  died,”  he 
asked,  “ and  what  passed  then?” 

A crimson  blush  covered  her  face.  Could  it  be  that  the 
one  passionate  hope  of  her  heart  was  to  be  gratified  at  last? 

“ I could  never  forget  it,”  she  said,  gently;  and  then  a 
deep  silence  fell  upon  them. 

“ Rita,”  continued  Lord  Lisle,  arousing  himself  at  last, 
“ I am  but  an  awkward  wooer — so  awkward  that  1 am  as- 
tonished at  myself.  Can  you  overlook  that — will  you  par- 
don my  abruptness,  and  tell  me  when  will  you  consent  to 
be  my  wife?” 

For  the  first  time  that  evening  Rita  lost  her  self-posses- 
sion; the  jeweled  fingers  trembled,  the  rich  color  faded 
from  her  cheek  and  lips. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER, 


125 


“ That  is  an  important  question/'  she  replied. 

“Yes/'  said  Philip,  gravely.  “Do  not  let  me  hurry 
you,  Rita.  Take  time  to  think  it  over.  Give  me  your 
answer  when  you  like." 

“ I do  not  require  time  for  thinking,"  she  said;  “ it  is 
not  that." 

All  that  was  womanly  and  tender  in  her  seemed  to  be 
aroused;  the  pride  and  hauteur  died  from  her  face;  a 
light,  soft  and  beautiful,  came  into  it;  the  dark,  lustrous 
eyes  were  dimmed  with  happy  tears. 

“It  is  not  that,  Philip,"  she  said,  rising  and  placing 
her  hand  on  his  arm.  “ I am  ready  to  redeem  my  promise 
whenever  you  will;  but  do  you  love  me — tell  me,  do  you 
love  me?" 

Lord  Lisle  felt  an  uncomfortable  sensation,  as  if  being 
placed  in  the  greatest  difficulty  any  one  had  ever  been  in. 
He  could  not  look  into  that  beautiful  face,  and  say  bluntly 
he  did  not  love  her;  nor  could  he  feign  a lover's  rapture 
that  he  did  not  feel.  He  evaded  all  reply  by  raising  her 
hand  and  pressing  his  lips  upon  it. 

“ There  are  times,"  she  said,  with  rare  and  graceful 
humility,  “ when  I feel  unworthy  to  be  your  wife.  My 
life  has  not  been  all  happiness." 

He  interrupted  her,  touched  to  the  heart  by  that  rare 
softening,  and  murmured  something  to  the  effect  that  she 
was  worthy  to  be  a queen. 

“ Ah,  no,"  she  said,  “ I am  not  worthy,  Philip;  but  if 
you  love  me,  if  I am  your  wife,  I will  try  as  I have  never 
done  before;  and  you  will  help  me?" 

Lord  Lisle  was  only  mortal.  The  beautiful  pleading 
face  so  near  his  own;  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes  swimming  in 
tears;  she  so  proud  to  others,  courted,  flattered,  and  ad- 
mired. He  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  the  tears 
away. 

“ 1 will  do  my  best,"  he  said,  gently,  “ to  make  you 
happy,  Rita.  Tell  me— when  will  you  be  my  wife?” 


126  LORD  LISLE5 S DAUGHTER. 

They  stood  by  the  little  fountain,  whose  pretty/ rippling 
waters  told  nothing  of  the  dread  tragedy  even  then  loom- 
ing in  the  distance,  and  they  talked  of  the  marriage  that 
was  to  take  place  when  the  summer  flowers  had  ceased  to 
bloom,  and  the  autumn  leaves  were  falling. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

On  arriving  home  on  that  eventful  night,  Rita  hurried 
to  her  own  chamber.  She  required  no  attendance — she 
longed  to  be  alone.  During  the  whole  evening  she  had 
exercised  marvelous  self-control.  She  had  seen  herself 
queen  of  the  most  brilliant  throng  in  London.  Men 
whose  names  were  historical  had  vied  with  each  other  who 
should  pay  the  most  flattering  homage  to  her — royal  lips 
had  complimented  her;  and  then  came  the  crowning  tri- 
umph— Lord  Lisle,  whom  she  loved  with  all  the  strength 
of  her  ambitious  nature,  had  asked  her  to  say  when  she 
would  be  his  wife.  All  this  had  happened— the  very 
depths  of  her  heart  had  been  stirred.  Now  she  wanted  to 
be  alone  to  think  it  over. 

The  wax  tapers  were  lighted  on  the  sumptuous  toilet- 
table — a cosy  easy-chair  was  drawn  up  to  it.  Rita  fastened 
the  door,  and  seated  herself  before  the  large  mirror. 

The  future  lay  before  her — one  path  of  roses.  There 
was  not  a thorn  to  be  seen  in  it — not  a cloud  in  the  bright 
sky  that  smiled  upon  her.  In  a few  short  months  the 
dearest  wish  of  her  heart  would  be  gratified — she  would  be 
Lady  Lisle. 

“He  loves  me,”  she  said  to  herself ; “and  in  time  to 
come  he  will  worship  me.” 

There  came  to  her  no  memory  of  the  deep,  passionate 
love  that  had  once  been  hers. 

“After  all,”  she  said  to  hercolf,  “it  has  prospered. 
What  an  old  woman's  tale  all  that  nonsense  about  evil  and 
good  is!  I have  made  the  most  of  circumstances — the 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


127 


most  of  my  beauty.  I have  trampled  underfoot  all  that 
the  world  calls  honor  and*  truth.  What  am  1 the  worse? 
Why  need  I have  feared  what  fools  call  retribution?  I 
have  prospered.  Evil  has  been  my  good.  There  is  no 
more  a shadow  of  danger  to  fear.  Henceforward  my  life 
will  be  a series  of  triumphs  one  more  brilliant  than  the 
other.  All  the  world  shall  know  and  talk  of  the  beautiful 
Lady  Lisle \” 

Her  eyes  wandered  from  her  own  face  to  the  shining  dia- 
monds. Suddenly  they  fell  upon  a white,  folded  paper 
lying  underneath  the  mirror.  She  thought  nothing  of  it 
at  first,  and  did  not  move  to  reach  it.  Not  until  her 
reverie  ended  did  she  carelessly  take  up  the  little  note  and 
open  it. 

Ah,  is  there  no  retribution?  Can  evil  prosper?  As  she 
reads  the  bright  color  fades  from  her  face — the  white  lips 
part  with  a low  gasping  cry — the  jeweled  hands  tremble — 
weird,  wild  horror  comes  into  the  dark  eyes.  Then  push- 
ing far  from  her  the  shining  gems,  she— lately  so  proud 
and  radiant — lay  white  and  crouching  upon  the  ground. 
Pride,  hope,  ambition,  love — all  crushed  for  the  moment 
by  deadly  fear. 

Yet  they  were  not  terrible  words  that  she  read.  Some 
would  have  glanced  over  them,  heedful  of  the  passionate 
love  they  betrayed,  thinking  of  the  devoted  heart  that 
dictated  them. 

“ Rita  ”• — so  the  letter  ran— “ I must  see  you,  my  dar- 
ling! No  matter  what  happens,  I must  see  you!  1 re- 
turned to  England  some  weeks  since — I went  straight  to 
Rooks’  Nest,  hoping,  believing,  you  would  be  there  to 
welcome  me  and  redeem  your  promise.  Heaven  grant 
you  may  never  feel  the  grief  and  anguish  that  fell  upon 
me  when  I heard  that  you,  my  darling — my  promised  wife 
— had  left,  never  to  return.  In  the  neighborhood  I heard 
your  story — people  still  tell  of  the  day  when  strangers  came 


m 


LORD  LISLE^S  DAUGHTER, 


and  took  you  away.  But  I could  learn  no. more;  Mrs. 
Feme  would  tell  me  nothing  of  your  name  or  address.  To 
my  passionate  pleading  and  prayers  she  gave  no  heed.  In 
despair  that  knows  no  words  I sought  for  you.  There  is 
little  need  to  tell  you  the  clew  by  which  I discovered  my 
lost  darling — my  wife  that  is  to  be.  The  world  may  call 
you  4 Miss  Lisle;'  you  may  be  a brilliant  belle,  a wealthy 
heiress — no  matter,  you  are  mine,  sworn  to  me  by  the 
most  solemn  vow  a woman  could  take.  Had  such  fortune 
come  to  me — were  I to  be  made  a king  to-morrow,  it 
would  not  matter;  1 should  value  all  because  you  were  to 
share  it  with  me. 

44  I have  worked  hard  for  you,  Rita,  these  three  years. 
I have  come  to  claim  you.  I know  you  are  true  to  me, 
•.  and  waiting  for  me.  No  fear  assails  me.  Perhaps  those 
proud  relations  of  yours  may  want  some  preparation  before 
seeing  one  who  is  to  take  their  pride  and  hope  from  them. 
1 leave  all  that  to  you;  only  appoint  a time  and  place 
where  I may  meet  you.  My  heart  hungers  and  thirsts  for 
one  glance  of  your  beautiful  face.  My  whole  soul  longs 
for  one  word  of  welcome  from  your  lips.  Send  a line  to 
this  address,  and  hasten  the  time,  Rita  darling.  I can  live 
no  longer  without  you.  There  may  be  difficulties;  you 
must  overcome  them.  Who  has  a greater  right  to  you 
than  I?" 

There  was  no  name  at  the  end  of  the  letter,  but  she 
knew  it  was  from  Ralph  Ashton.  After  so  many  years, 
this  ghost  had  arisen;  in  the  hour  of  her  triumph,  at  the 
very  moment  when  she  had  mocked  at  fear  and  laughed  at 
retribution,  this  blow  had  fallen,  paralyzing  her  at  first 
with  mortal  dread. 

44  I hate  him!"  she  said.  44 1 wish  he  were  dead!" 

She  tore  the  letter  into  shreds,  and  stamped  upon  them, 
inwardly  feeling  she  could  trample  his  life  underfoot.  Re- 
flection succeeded  fear— indignation  came  swiftly  after,  ^ 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


129 


“ How  had  he  dared — poor  and  lowly  born — how  dare 
he  imagine  that  their  foolish  acquaintance  was  to  continue? 
His  wife!”  A smile  of  derision  curled  her  beautiful  lips. 
She  was  betrothed  to  Lord  Lisle — Lord  Lisle,  who  would 
thrash  this  low-born  hind  within  an  inch  of  his  life  if  she 
complained  to  him.  She  must  see  him — temporize  with 
him — show  him  the  great  and  impassable  difference  be- 
tween them.  Then,  if  he  was  not  satisfied,  and  did  not 
take  his  dismissal  kindly,  she  would  complain  to  -Lord 
Lisle. 

She  began  to  smile  at  her  own  fears.  The  worst  that 
could  happen  had  befallen  her.  Ealph  had  found  her  out; 
but,  after  all,  it  did  not,  could  not  matter.  Difficulties 
had  arisen  before,  and  she  had  conquered  them.  She 
should  do  the  same  again. 

Suddenly  the  thought  struck  her — who  had  placed  the 
note  upon  her  toilet-table?  It  was  not  there  when  she 
dressed  for  the  ball.  Through  the  rest  of  that  summer 
night  Eita  lay  in  deep,  conscious  thought — there  was  no 
rest  and  no  sleep  for  her.  She  must  answer  the  letter. 
There  was  no  alternative.  But  see  him  she  would  not, 
unless  she  was  obliged  to  do  so. 

She  dare  not  ring  for  her  maid  at  an  earlier  hour  than 
usual,  lest  some  suspicion  might  be  aroused.  But  when 
Therese  did  come  she  looked  with  surprise  at  her  lady's 
pale  face  and  shadowed  eyes. 

When  nearly  dressed,  Eita  turned  suddenly,  as  though 
the  thought  had  only  just  occurred  to  her. 

“ Did  you  place  that  note  upon  my  toilet-table  last  even* 
ing,  Therese?”  she  asked. 

The  young  girl's  face  flushed  slightly. 

“ I hope  it  was  not  wrong,  Miss  Lisle,”  she  said. 

“ Wrong?”  said  Eita.  “ Certainly  not;  why  should  it 
be?  -The  only  thing  is  1 do  not  understand  that  kind  of 
thing,  and  should  much  prefer  letters  being  sent  to  mo 

5 ~ 


130  LORD  lisle's  daughter. 

through  the  post.  How  came  you  to  do  it?”  she  con- 
tinued. 

46  The  person  who  gave  it  to  me  said  it  was  of  the 
greatest  importance.  He  asked  me  to  place  it  there  that 
you  might  see  it.  ” 

44  How  came  he  to  do  so?”  asked  Miss  Lisle,  with 
haughty  indifference. 

44 1 do  not  know,”  replied  the  maid.  44  The  truth  is. 
Miss  Lisle,  1 have  met  him  this  week  several  times.  He 
seemed  to  be  watching  about  the  house.  He  spoke  to  me 
last  night;  he  gave  me  the  letter,  and  asked  me  to  place  it 
where  you  could  see  it.” 

44  it  is  strange,”  said  Rita,  calmly.  44  Is  he  a gentle- 
man, Therese?” 

She  could  not  resist  the  question;  she  was  so  anxious  to 
hear  the  maid's  reply. 

44  No;  I should  not  say  he  was  a gentleman,  miss,”  was 
the  candid  reply;  44  but  he  seemed  to  be  a very  respecta- 
ble, nice-looking  young  man.  ” 

44 1 do  not  blame  you  this  time,”  said  Miss  Lisle;  44  but 
remember  never  to  take  the  same  liberty  again,  Therese. 
If— if  that  person  should  ever  ask  you  to  give  me  another 
letter,  pray  tell  him  the  post-office  is  the  proper  channel 
for  begging  letters  of  all  kinds.” 

Therese  thought  herself  only  too  fortunate  to  escape  any 
further  anger  from  her  imperious  young  mistress.  She 
said  nothing  of  the  handsome,  haggard  face  and  imploring 
eyes,  or  the  gold  which  found  its  way  from  Ralph's  open 
hand  to  her  pocket. 

Rita  did  not  go  down  to  breakfast.  She  shrunk  from 
the  ordeal  of  hearing  remarks  and  comments  over  her  pale 
face.  She  ordered  some  tea  to  be  brought  to  her,  resolv- 
ing before  anything  else  to  answer  Ralph's  letter. 

But  Daisy  knocked  at  the  door,  and  would  not  be  de- 
nied. 

44 1 know  you  are  tired,”  she  said,  bending  over  the 


LORD  LISTENS  DAUGHTER. 


131 


beautiful,  false  face.  44  Therese  tells  me  you  are  quite 
fatigued;  but  I could  not  help  coming  to  you,  my  sister. 
Mrs.  Wyverne  has  been  recounting  your  triumphs,  and  she 
has  told  me  something  else  besides.  Let  me  kiss  you, 
Eita,  and  wish  you  all  happiness.  We  were  children  to- 
gether. Your  pleasures  and  your  sorrows  will  always  be 
mine!  So  you  danced  with  a royal  highness,”  she  con- 
tinued, gayly.  44  Ah,  Eita,  1 smile,  yet  the  tears  lie  close 
to  my  eyes.  Who  would  have  thought  it  years  ago?  You 
will  soon  be  Lady  Lisle!  Surely  no  life  ever  had  stronger 
vicissitudes  than  yours!” 

46  No,”  said  Eita;  44  it  is  like  one  of  the  fairy  tales  you 
used  to  admire  so  greatly.  Daisy,  my  head  aches,  and  1 
am  very  tired.  Tell  Mrs.  Wyverne  lam  going  to  rest  this 
morning,  and  do  not  let  any  one  come  near  me  till  I ring 
my  bell.” 


CHAPTEE  XXL 

It  was  a cleverly  worded  reply  that  Eita  composed  in 
answer  to  Ealph  Ashton’s  letter.  There  was  not  one 
word  which  could  in  any  way  compromise  her.  She  said 
nothing  of  welcome,  nothing  of  love — she  never  named 
constancy;  but  she  appealed  to  his  generosity.  44  She  was 
surrounded  with  difficulties,”  she  said;  44  would  he  be  gen- 
erous and  wait — not  press  for  an  interview  that  would 
cause  her  to  run  the  serious  risk  of  displeasing  her  newly 
found  friends  and  relatives?”  She  said  nothing  of  the  dis- 
tance between  them,  but  every  word  betrayed  how  great 
she  felt  it  to  be. 

The  letter  written,  she  would  not  intrust  it  to  any  one. 
With  her  own  hands  she  carried  it%  to  the  nearest  post- 
office,  wishing  as  she  did  so  that  it  might  be  the  last  she 
was  ever  to  write  to  him. 

Mrs.  Wyverne  came  to  her  dressing-room  almost  imme« 
diately  afterward. 


132 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


“ Daisy  tells  me  you  are  better,  my  dear,  and  that  you 
have  been  out.  I want  to  speak  to  you  very  seriously. 
Can  you  spare  me  a few  minutes?” 

“ My  time  is  all  at  your  service,”  she  replied;  and  the 
elder  lady  sat  down  upon  the  luxurious  little  couch. 

44  Your  wedding  is  to  take  place  in  the  autumn,”  said 
Mrs.  Wy verne.  44  I assure  you,  my  dear,  the  time  is  short 
enough  for  all  that  we  have  to  do.  Lady  Hammond,  has 
been  here  this  morning,  and  she  tells  me  that  Messrs.  Storr 
& Mortimer  have  some  magnificent  pearls  and  rubies. 
She  says  they  are  more  superb  than  anything  she  ever  saw. 
I have  been  thinking  that  as  I intend  to  give  you  jewelry, 
we  can  not  do  better  than  drive  there  at  once,  and  if  they 
please  you  you  can  select  what  you  will.  You  must  choose 
your  own  design  for  the  setting.  Have  you  any  engage- 
ment which  will  prevent  you  from  going  with  me?” 

64  None,”  she  replied,  gently;  but  Mrs.  Wyverne  won- 
dered why  the  beautiful  face  looked  so  strangely  white  and 
sad. 

44  Daisy  is  going  with  us,”  she  continued.  44 1 asked 
her  purposely;  she  has  exquisite  taste  in  all  such  matters. 
The  carriage  will  be  round  in  ten  minutes;  will  you  hasten 
to  dress?” 

The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the  streets  were  crowded 
with  gayly  dressed  people;  yet  on  Rita’s  heart  there 
seemed  to  linger  a heavy  weight  of  dread  and  presenti- 
ment. All  pleasure  was  spoiled  by  the  miserable  memory 
of  Ralph  Ashton. 

Mrs.  Wyverne  and  Daisy  both  thought  their  companion 
silent  and  dull. 

Ah,  me,  the  gorgeous  jewels  spread  out  before  her! 
Diamonds  that  looked  like  living  jets  of  flame;  rubies 
glowing  like  hearts  of  fire;  emeralds  green  and  bright; 
■opals  with  wondrous  changing  tints;  and  pearls  that  glim- 
mered and  glittered  like  dew-drops  with  the  sun  shining  in 
them. 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


183 


At  any  other  time  those  proud,  dark  eyes  would  have 
lighted  up  with  gratified  vanity.  Now  she  glanced  list- 
lessly over  them.  While  Mrs.  Wyverne  admired  the 
rubies,  and  Daisy  hung  enchanted  over  the  pearls,  she  was 
thinking  how  could  she  get  rid  of  Ralph  Ashton. 

“ Rita,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne,  suddenly,  “ you  seem  very 
absent.  What  are  you  thinking  about?” 

The  question  alarmed  her;  she  must  arouse  herself,  or 
they  would  suspect.  With  a strong  force  of  her  iron  will 
she  drove  back  the  haunting  fear  and  applied  herself  to 
the  task  of  choosing  from  among  the  magnificent  gems  be- 
fore her. 

Little  they  thought  who  watched  the  slender,  white 
fingers  that  touched  the  shining  jewels,  what  deadly 
thoughts  of  hatred  were  passing  through  her  heart.  Mrs. 
Wyverne  gave  her  carte-blanche , and  Rita  selected  rubies 
and  pearls  that  a princess  might  have  envied.  She  chose 
the  most  gorgeous  settings;  and  Daisy  smiled  as  she 
thought  how  well  these  rare  jewels  would  become  her  sis- 
ter’s queenly  beauty. 

“ You  will  have  the  finest  jewels  in  London,  Rita,”  said 
Mrs.  Wyverne,  as  they  drove  away.  “ And  now,  if  you 
have  still  time  to  spare,  1 should  like  to  call  upon  Mr. 
Feme.  I spoke  to  him  last  week  about  beginning  your 
portrait,  and  he  appointed  to-day  for  an  interview.” 

Rita  looked  up  in  silent  wonder.  Mrs.  Wyverne  smiled. 

“ I have  said  nothing  to  you  about  it,”  she  continued. 
“ I want  your  picture  as  a surprise  to  Philip.  Every  Lady 
Lisle  hangs  in  the  great  gallery;  you  have  a double  right 
to  be  there,  as  a daughter  of  one  lord  and  wife  of  another. 
I consider  Mr.  Feme  the  finest  artist  in  England.  If  you 
are  willing,  1 should  like  him  to  commence  your  portrait 
at  once.” 

“lean  have  no  possible  objection,”  said  Rita.  “On 
the  contrary,  I like  Mr.  Feme’s  pictures,  and  shall  be 
much  pleased  to  sit  for  him.” 


134 


LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER. 


They  found  several  visitors  of  rank  and  note  at  the 
studio.  Lady  Rolfe,  with  her  pretty,  fashionable  daugh- 
ter, the  young  Countess  of  Eversham;  Sir  Harry  Hulme, 
and  Captain  Lionel  Verne,  the  son  of  the  bravest  and 
finest  officer  in  the  English  army. 

Rita  saw  at  one  glance  how  she  had  risen  in  popular 
favor.  Lady  Eversham,  the  most  fastidious  and  exclusive 
of  belles,  hastened  forward  to  address  her.  The  gallant 
captain  impatiently  awaited  his  turn;  and  Sir  Harry 
Hulme  was  busy  composing  some  original  compliment. 

They  withdrew  at  length,  after  many  protestations  of 
delight  at  the  unexpected  meeting,  and  assurances  from 
Lady  Eversham  that  she  should  look  forward  with  delight 
to  the  friendship  of  Miss  Lisle. 

The  artist,  Mr.  Feme,  had  leisure  then  to  speak.  He 
listened  to  Mrs.  Wyverne^s  ideas  about  the  picture;  his 
keen,  artistic  eye  drinking  in,  as  it  were,  the  magnificent 
beauty  of  Miss  Lisle  and  the  delicate  loveliness  of  ner 
sister. 

Seeing  how  much  Mr.  Feme  admired  Daisy,  Mrs.  Wy- 
verne  introduced  her  to  him.  For  the  first  time,  Rita  was 
slightly  jealous.  He  seemed  to  pass  her  over  and  concen- 
trate his  attention  on  the  fair,  spiritual  face  and  tender 
eyes  of  her  foster-sister. 

“ And  this  young  lady,”  he  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Wy- 
verne,  “ I hope  she  intends  honoring  me  with  a few  sit- 
tings?” 

Daisy  laughed — a rippling,  musical  laugh  that  charmed 
Mi.  Feme. 

44  No,”  she  said,  gayly.  “ I think  that  Fate  never  in- 
tended my  face  to  be  hung  side  by  side  with  the  Ladies 
Lisle.” 

In  after-years  they  both  remembered  these  careless 
words. 

The  time  was  arranged  for  the  first  sitting. 

“We  must  hurry  home,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne,  then; 


LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER. 


135 


44  There  .will  be  barely  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  I ex- 
pect Lord  Lisle.  Not  one  word  of  the  picture  to  him,  re- 
member; it  will  be  a charming  surprise.  " 

Lord  Lisle  thought  his  beautiful  fiancee  looked  pale  and 
tired.  He  was  kinder  and  more  affectionate  to  her  in  his 
manner  than  he  had  been  before. 

The  evening  gloaming  had  set  in  when  dinner  ended, 
and  Lord  Lisle  joined  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room. v 
Eita  had  drawn  a large  easy-chair  near  the  open  window,' 
through  which  the  summer  breeze  came  in  sweet  with  per- 
fume. There  was  an  expression  of  deep  thought  on  her 
face;  the  brilliant,  vivid  coloring  had  grown  strangely 
pale.  Lord  Lisle  thought  her  more  beautiful  under  this 
softened  aspect  than  he  had  ever  done  before. 

Why  did  she  look  sad  and  thoughtful — his  uncle's  dar- 
ling child?  Could  it  be  that  she  had  noticed  the  coldness 
of  his  love?  The  young  man's  generous  heart  smote  him 
with  a keen  sense  of  pain.  There  could  be  no  other  rea- 
son why  the  woman  who  loved  him  so  dearly  should  look 
unhappy.  He  resolved  to  drive  that  expression  from  her 
face.  Lord  Lisle  liked  to  do  anything  thoroughly,  if  he 
did  it  at  all.  No  half  measures  suited  him.  Honor  and 
her  own  love  bound  him  to  this  young  girl,  and  he  said  to 
himself  that  he  would  trample  all  else  underfoot  and  make 
her  happy. 

He  went  at  once  to  her. 

“ You  danced  too  much  last  evening,  Rita,"  he  said. 
“ It  is  useless  to  deny  the  fact — you  are  unlike  yourself  to- 
day. Shall  I read  to  you?" 

44  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  gently.  44  Talk  to  me; 
I should  like  that  better. " 

Lord  Lisle  drew  a little  footstool  near  her,  and  sat  at 
her  feet. 

He  talked  to  Rita  as  he  had  never  done  before — of  a 
future  when  they  should  be  together,  sharing  one  home. 


i 


136 


LORD  LXSLE9S  DAUGHTER. 


He  talked  of  his  hopes  and  his  plans — all  h©  intended  t© 
do,  and  of  all  his  hopes  for  her. 

She  listened,  and  yielded  to  the  charm.  Something 
would  happen.  Ealph  dare  not  persecute  her^  he  would 
withdraw  his  claim,  and  leave  her  in  peace.  For  the  time 
she  quieted  her  fears,  and  Lord  Lisle,  when  he  saw  the 
smile  return  to  her  lips  and  the  light  to  her  eyes,  thought 
how  cleverly  he  had  guessed  the  cause  of  her  sadness,  and 
how  dearly  she  loved  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  post  of  the  next  morning  brought  another  letter 
from  Ralph.  Mrs.  Wyverne  passed  it  to  Rita.  A dark, 
angry  flush  covered  her  face  as  she  received  it;  the  com- 
mon blue  envelope — the  rude  style  of  address,  the  clumsy 
seal,  all  formed  so  great  a contrast  with  the  elegant  let- 
ters that  came  with  it. 

“ That  looks  like  a tradesman’s  bill,  Rita,”  said  Mrs. 
Wyverne,  as  she  passed  the  envelope  to  her. 

She  made  some  slight  remark,  then  put  the  letter  away. 
Had  she  dared  she  would  have  torn  it  into  shreds,  and 
stamped  upon  the  pieces;  but  fear  compelled  her  to  read 
what  he  had  written. 

Her  heart  sickened  at  the  passionate,  loving  words. 
“ His  own  Rita,”  he  called  her — “ his  wife  that  was  to  be. 
Yes,  he  would  wait  patiently;  but  only  for  a short  time. 
He  must  see  her  soon,  and  hear  from  her  own  lips  when 
she  would  become  his  wife.” 

It  was  well  for  Ralph  Ashton  that  he  did  not  see  the 
bitter  contempt  on  the  face  of  the  woman  he  loved.  She 
trembled  with  angry  indignation;  she  hated  herself  for  her 
folly  in  having  ever  given  such  a man  power  over  her. 

4 4 1 must  have  been  mad!”  she  cried.  “ Did  1 sell  my- 
self for  a pair  of  diamond  ear-rings,  and  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  a few  flattering  words?” 


to  ED  LISTENS  DAUGHTER. 


W 

All  that  day  she  spent  with  Mrs.  Wyverne,  ordering  and 
selecting  costly  dresses  of  every  description;  trying,  in  the 
whirl  of  business  and  gayety,  to  forget  all  fear. 

Never  was  bride  or  fiancee  so  magnificently  portioned. 
Mrs.  Wyverne  seemed  to  wish  to  lay  all  the  treasures  of 
earth  at  the  feet  of  her  beautiful  grandchild.  Rita’s  eyes 
ached  with  the  glitter  and  sheen  of  all  that  was  brilliant 
and  rare. 

Could  any  one  be  so  mad  as  to  think  that  she  would 
give  up  all  this  to  become  the  wife  of  a man  she  detested 
— give  up  the  title  she  had  set  her  heart  upon — give  up 
the  position  she  had  longed  for — and  more  than  all,  the 
man  she  loved? 

Yet  she  awaited  Ralph’s  next  step  in  fear.  What  would 
he  do?  Would  he  force  his  way  into  the  house  and  de- 
mand to  see  her?  Would  he  call  and  ask  for  her?  Would 
he  write  and  insist  upon  a meeting?  She  knew  not;  she 
walked  blindly,  like  one  upon  the  edge  of  a precipice,  who 
neither  sees  nor  cares  to  see  the  brink. 

The  exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  that  year  was 
considered  an  unusually  successful  one.  The  whole  fash- 
ionable world  went  to  see  Mr.  Feme’s  wonderful  picture 
“Condemned.”  People  raved  of  its  simple  pathos,  its 
grand  execution,  its  tragical  story. 

It  was  the  picture  of  a young  and  beautiful  girl  alone  in 
a prison-cell;  a sunbeam  coming  in  through  the  narrow 
grating  touched  her  bowed  head  with  its  golden  glory. 
There  was  a tragical  history  in  the  beautiful,  despairing 
face.  Love  that  knew  no  bounds  or  measure  had  played 
in  the  beautiful  eyes  now  so  haggard  and  wild;  love  that 
had  yielded  to  jealousy  and  led  to  crime.  She  did  not  look 
repentant  or  sorrowful,  although  the  life-blood  of  the  man 
she  had  loved  stained  her  hand.  There  was  power  and 
passion,  capability  of  endeavor,  all  expressed  in  the  deli- 
cate features.  The  white  hands,  heavily  chained,  were 
clasped  together,  but  not  in  prayer. 


vm 


LOtlt)  L1SLE?S  DAUGHTER. 


It  was  a grand  picture;  people  looked  at  it  and  left  it  in 
silence.  Strong  emotion  does  not  always  call  forth  words. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  said  about  it;  the  story  told  itself. 
Lord  Lisle  called  one  morning  to  ask  Daisy  and  Rita  to  go 
with  him  to  see  the  far-famed  picture. 

“ Pray  let  us  walk  through  the  park/*  said  Daisy.  “ 1 
am  quite  tired  of  going  everywhere  in  a carriage.  See, 
Rita,  how  the  sun  shines;  the  birds  will  be  all  singing  and 
the  chestnut-trees  in  flower.  Let  us  walk.** 

“lam  quite  willing/*  said  Rita,  indifferently.  Provid- 
ed she  were  with  Philip  she  cared  for  little  else. 

“ You  had  better  make  a ravishing  toilet/*  continued 
Daisy,  with  a smile;  and  Rita  agreed  with  her. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  the  announcement  of  their 
engagement  that  she  had  gone  out  with  Lord  Lisle,  and 
she  resolved  to  do  honor  to  the  occasion. 

Philip  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  looking  so  beauti- 
ful; all  details  of  millinery  were  lost  upon  him.  He  saw  a 
radiant  vision  clad  in  rich,  sweeping  silk,  with  a cloud  of 
lace  falling  artistically  in  all  directions.  The  queenly  head 
was  covered  with  a little  gem  of  a bonnet — white  lace 
again.  One  crimson  flower,  glowing  like  the  heart  of  a 
pomegranate,  lay  upon  the  massive  coils  of  dark  hair. 

J ust  as  they  entered  the  park  Captain  Darcy  met  them. 
On  hearing  their  destination  he  begged  permission  to  join 
the  party.  He  attached  himself  to  Rita*s  side,  and  Lord 
Lisle  walked  a little  in  advance  with  Daisy. 

“ This  is  an  unexpected  happiness/*  said  Captain  Darcy 
to  Rita.  “ I am  leaving  England,  and  may  not  have  an- 
other opportunity  of  saying  farewell  to  you.** 

“ Leaving  England?**  said  Rita,  indifferently.  “ When, 
and  why?** 

“ In  three  days  from  now/*  he  replied.  “ I have  ex- 
changed into  a regiment  going  to  India.  That  is  when;  I 
wish  I dare  tell  you  why.** 


LORD  LISTENS  DAUGHTER.  139 

“You  can  if  you  will,”  she  said,  interested  by  the 
handsome,  melancholy  face,  and  the  sad,  patient  voice. 

“May  I?”  he  asked.  “And  you  promise  not  to  be 
angry?  Oh,  let  me  tell  you,  Miss  Lisle;  give  me  one  kind 
word  and  let  me  take  it  into  exile  with  me!  You  can  not 
help  being  the  most  beautiful  and  noble  of  women,”  he 
continued;  “and  I can  not  help  loving  you.  Do  not  be 
angry.  Miss  Lisle;  1 loved  you  the  first  moment  I saw  you, 
and  I said  to  myself  then  that  I would  freely  give  my  life 
to  win  one  kind  word  from  you.  1 can  not  help  loving 
you;  but  1 am  a man  of  honor  and  a gentleman.  They 
tell  me  you  are  going  to  marry  Lord  Lisle,  and  I bow  to 
my  fate.  1 shall  go  far  from  you,  where  I may  learn  to 
forget  the  love  that  is  at  once  the  bane  and  the  pride  of 
my  life.” 

“ I am  sorry,”  began  Rita,  gently;  but  he  interrupted 
her. 

“Do  not  say  that.  Miss  Lisle;  da  not  let  me  think  I 
have  ever  brought  one  sad  thought  to  you.  Believe  me, 
looking  upon  you  now  for  the  last  time,  I say  that  I would 
rather  love  you,  and  love  you  in  vain,  than  be  happy  with 
any  other  woman  in  the  wide  world.” 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  Rita  knew  not  what  to  say. 
Once  before  she  had  heard  words  like  these — words  that 
seemed  to  chime  with  the  falling  waves  and  the  murmur- 
ing winds. 

“ I ought  not  to  have  told  you  this,”  he  said;  “ it  would 
have  been  nobler  and  braver  to  have  gone  away  and  have 
let  my  secret  be  buried  with  me.  But  you  will  give  me 
one  word  to  cheer  my  exile.  I have  light,  warmth,  and 
happiness  with  you;  1 go  out  into  darkness  and  cold.  Say 
something  to  me  that  I may  remember  in  the  years  to 
come.” 

“ I say  you  are  a noble  man.  Captain  Darcy,”  said  Rita, 
gently.  “ I predict  that  there  is  happiness  yet  in  store  for 
you.” 


140 


tOKB  LISLF/S  DAUGHTER. 

“ No,”  he  replied.  “ I may  find  peace,  hut  not  happi- 
ness, Miss  Lisle.  There  comes  a thunder-cloud  occasion- 
ally in  the  brightest  summer  sky.  Life  lies  all  smiling  be- 
fore you;  but  trouble  may  come*  If  ever  it  should — if 
ever  you  should  need  a friend  with  a strong  arm  and  a 
true  heart,  will  you  promise  to  remember  me?  I would 
come  from  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  world  to  serve  you.” 

“ I will  remember,”  she  said. 

And  the  time  came  when  she  would  have  given  much 
for  such  aid  as  he  could  have  afforded  her. 

46 1 shall  go  away  happier,”  he  said;  “ 1 am  glad  I 
spoke  to  you,  Miss  Lisle.” 

He  looked  into  the  beautiful  face  upraised  to  his*  with  a 
sweet  smile.  Suddenly  he  saw  it  change;  the  brilliant 
color  all  faded;  the  white  lips  parted  and  uttered  a low 
cry.  She  laid  one  hand  upon  his  arm. 

“ Hasten!”  she  said,  in  a voice  lie  scarcely  recognized — 
“ hasten  on!” 

She  walked  with  rapid  footsteps;  it  was  with  difficulty 
he  kept  pace  with  her.  "When  they  left  the  park  and 
turned  down  the  broad  path  she  relaxed  her  speed  and 
turned  to  him.  Her  face  was  still  white  and  her  lips 
quivering. 

“ What  is  it.  Miss  Lisle?”  he  asked,  anxiously;  “ what 
has  alarmed  you?” 

46  A resemblance,”  she  said;  “perhaps  only  a fancied 
one.” 

“ If  any  one  annoyed  you,”  he  said,  “ 1 would — ” 

“ What  would  you  do?”  she  interrupted,  with  a smile. 

“Shoot  him,”  replied  Captain  Darcy,  “without  any 
remorse.” 

She  looked  almost  wistfully  at  him.  Ah!  if  some  brave 
man  like  this  would  but  espouse  her  cause,  and  free  her 
from  the  wretched  persecution  that  blighted  her  life.  If 
&he  could  but  tell  him  all,  and  ask  him  to  free  her  from 


loud  lisle's  daughter.  141 

Ralph  Ashton?  But  no,  she  could  not  share  her  miserable 
secret— it  must  be  kept  at  any  price. 

Margaret  Lisle  committed  many  grave  crimes  during 
that  morning.  She  had  made,  perhaps,  the  greatest  mistake 
of  her  life.  She  liad  converted  Ralph  Ashton's  passionate 
love  into  fierce  hate — she  had  changed  a devoted  lover  into 
an  implacable  foe. 

Walking  with  Captain  Darcy,  listening  to  the  warm, 
eager  words,  she  had,  for  the  moment,  forgotten  all  else 
save  him.  She  was  looking  earnestly  at  him,  when,  sud- 
denly crossing  the  park  at  some  little  distance,  she  saw 
Ralph  Ashton.  Her  quick  eyes  noted  the  dark,  handsome 
face,  grown  coarse  and  sunburned,  the  vulgar,  ill-fitting 
clothes,  the  large,  ungloved  hands  and  showy  ring.  Her 
heart  sickened  at  sight  of  him.  She  felt  nothing  but  the 
most  intense  loathing  and  disgust. 

Suddenly  she  perceived  that  he  recognized  her.  She  saw 
the  start  of  surprise;  the  uncontrollable  joy  that  bright- 
ened his  face;  the  quick,  eager  manner  in  which  he  has- 
tened to  meet  her;  the  outstretched  hand  extended  in 
greeting.  For  once  self-control  failed  her;  disgust  over- 
came fear;  she  laid  her  hand  upon  Captain  Darcy's  arm 
and  turned  indignantly  away. 

Ralph  saw  it  all — the  disgust,  contempt,  and  fear  that 
blanched  her  face;  the  hasty  gesture  of  avoidance;  the 
hurried  manner  in  which  she  evaded  and  avoided  him. 
At  first  he  was  stunned  as  with  a heavy  blow.  The  girl 
who  had  listened  to  him  on  the  sea-shore;  who  had  re- 
peated the  binding  oath  in  the  sunlit  garden  at  Queen's 
Lynne;  who  had  promised  to  be  his  wife  when  he  should 
return  and  claim  her;  the  girl  for  whom  he  had  worked 
and  toiled  day  and  night,  after  nearly  four  years  of  ab- 
sence, had  coolly  looked  in  his  face  and  passed  him  by  with 
dislike  and  avoidance. 

For  some  minutes  he  could  hot  realize  it.  The  shock 
seemed  to  have  paralyzed  him.  When  he  recovered  Rita 


142 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


had  passed  out  of  sight,  and  Ralph’s  anger  was  something 
fearful  to  witness. 

44  So,”  he  said  slowly  to  himself,  64  that  is  it!  She  sent 
me  a few  sugared  words,  thinking  to  put  me  off — meaning 
to  deceive  me.  She  passed  me  by;  she  was  ashamed  to 
speak  to  me  before  that  fine  officer!  She  looked  as  though 
she  hated  me,  and  I — oh,  heavens,  I have  loved  her  so!” 

Was  he  ashamed  of  the  sharp,  stinging  pain  that  rankled 
in  his  heart — of  the  hot  tears  that  blinded  his  eyes  like 
falling  rain?  They  changed  him;  love  grew  into  fierce 
hate.  Margaret  Lisle  committed  that  morning  one  of  the 
most  fatal  errors  in  her  erring  life. 

There  and  then,  before  leaving  the  park,  Ralph  medi- 
tated long,  and  formed  the  plans  so  fatal  to  the  girl  he 
loved. 

44  You  will  not  tell  me  what  alarmed  you.  Miss  Lisle?” 
said  Captain  Darcy  again. 

44  It  was  nothing,”  she  replied;  44  but  a fancied  resem- 
blance to  one  I knew  and  dreaded  years  ago.  I have  quite 
recovered  from  my  alarm.  Let  us  speak  of  pleasanter 
things.  Have  you  seen  this  famous  picture?” 

46  No,”  replied  the  captain.  44  And  if  you  will  pardon 
me,  Miss  Lisle,  I will  leave  you  here.  1 will  make  my 
apologies  to  Lord  Lisle.  1 am  not  in  the  mood  for  look- 
ing at  pictures.”  ^ 

44  As  you  will,”  said  Riia,  gently. 

44  Say  those  words  to  me  again.  Miss  Lisle;  bid  me  God- 
speed on  my  journey!” 

For  one  half  moment  she  hesitated.  Surely  the  lips  so 
steeped  in  lies  should  not  . utter  that  name. 

44  Good-bye,  Captain  Darcy!”  sh6  said.  44  God  speed 
you.  I shall  always  remember  you.” 

He  turned  away  lest  she  should  see  the  emotion  on  his 
face. 

44  Going?”  said  Lord  Lisle.  44  Ah,  you  soldiers  are  very 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


143 


fickle!  I thought  you  wanted  to  see  the  4 Condemned '? 
Good-morning;  I shall  see  you  at  the  club  this  evening." 

44  Captain  Darcy  looks  very  melancholy,  Rita,"  said 
Daisy.  44  Have  you  been  cross,  or  proud,  or  inflexible?" 

44  No,"  said  Rita,  with  a startled  look;  44 1 have  been 
passive,  Daisy.  That  is  the  most  1 can  say  for  myself." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

They  stood  before  the  wondrous  picture.  Daisy's  sweet 
eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she '"gazed  upon  the  beautiful,  de- 
spairing face  and  the  chained  wrists. 

44  The  old  story,"  said  Lord  Lisle,  gravely.  44  Love  is 
at  once  the  greatest  good  and  the  greatest  evil." 

44  Abuse  of  it  may  be  an  evil,"  said  Daisy.  44  Love 
itself  could  never  be  anything  but  good. " 

44  It  is  not  the  master  passion  of  the  world,"  said  Rita. 
44  Ambition  is  greater." 

44  Do  not  say  the  word!"  exclaimed  Lord  Lisle.  44 1 
dislike  ambition  and  ambitious  people.  No  word  seems  to 
me  more  harsh  on  the  lips  of  a young  girl  than  that.  I 
could  pardon  much  to  love — nothing  to  ambition." 

These  words  haunted  Rita.  He  could  pardon  much  to 
love — nothing  to  ambition.  Oh,  if  ever  he  discovered  her 
secret,  there  would  be  no  pity  for  her — nothing  to  plead 
on  her  behalf! 

That  evening,  as  Rita,  dressed  with  great  magnificence 
and  skill,  descended  the  grand  staircase,  a footman  met 
her,  carrying  in  his  hand  a silver  salver,  oh  which  lay  one 
of  those  blue  envelopes  she  knew  and  detested. 

44  A man  called  with  this  before  dinner,  and  desired  me. 
Miss  Lisle,  to  give  it  to  you  at  once. " 

Rita  took  the  letter  with  a gesture  of  superb  indiffer- 
ence. There  was  no  time  then  to  open  it;  the  second  diir 
ner-bell  bad  rung,  and  Mrs.  Wyverne  had  one  of  her  grand 
dinner-parties.  She  placed  it  carefully  in  the  pocket  of 


144 


LORD  LISTENS  DAUGHTER. 


her  dress.  No  one  who  had  seen  her  that  night  would 
have  believed  any  secret  care  or  trouble  weighed  upon  her. 
She  threw  off  the  stately  reserve  and  hauteur  that  usually 
wrapped  her  like  a mantle.  No  smile  was  so  sweet  and 
winning,  no  voice  so  musical,  no  wit  so  keen,  no  satire  so 
kindly  as  hers.  Even  Lord  Lisle  was  charmed.  He  lin- 
gered by  her  side,  and  when  the  little  party  broke  up,  he 
touched  her  beautiful  face  with  his  lips. 

“ That  is  my  privilege  now,”  he  said,  gently.  “ Good- 
night, Rita.  You  shall  be  proclaimed  Queen  of  Hearts.” 

She  laughed  a low,  sweet  laugh — her  heart  beat  high 
with  triumph.  He  was  beginning  to  love  her  as  she 
wanted  to  be  loved— as  Captain  Darcy  loved  her;  poor 
Captain  Darcy!  who  had  sailed  that  day  for  India,  and 
who  was  never  to  look  upon  her  face  again. 

When  she  was  alone  in  her  own  room,  when  her  maid 
had  taken  away  the  brilliant  jewels  and  costly  robes,  Rita 
opened  her  letter  and  read  it. 

They  were  fierce,  angry  words,  such  as  come  from  the 
lips  of  coarse,  angry  men. 

46  She  was  his,”  he  said,  “ before  God  and  before  man; 
his  by  a thousand  ties — by  virtue  of  an  oath  she  dare  not 
break — and  he  would  claim  her.  She  had  passed  him  by 
— ashamed  of  him  before  her  grand  friends;  but  it  was 
useless.  She  must  appoint  the  time  and  place  for  an  in- 
terview, or  lie  would  call  at  the  house  and  force  her  to  see 
him.  He  would  wait  no  longer — she  must  prepare  to  keep 
her  promise,  and  become  his  wife.  He  could  force  her  to 
do  so;  and  if  she  would  see  him,  and  hear  all  he  had  to 
say,  she  would  see  how  he  could  compel  her  to  keep  her 
promise.” 

There  was  nothing  much  of  love  in  the  letter.  He  spoke 
chiefly  of  force,  and  as  though  he  had  some  mysterious 
power  over  her. 

A sickening  fear  and  foreboding  seized  her  as  she  read. 


lord  lisle’s  daughter.  145 

All!  could  it  be,  after  all,  that  evil  brought  its  own  pun- 
ishment? Could  it  be  that  retribution  had  already  begun? 

A thousand  different  plans  suggested  themselves  to  her. 
She  would  have  shown  scant  mercy  to  Ealph  Ashton  had 
he  been  in  her  power.  All  night,  while  others  slept,  she 
walked  restlessly  up  and  down  that  sumptuous  apartment; 
all  night,  while  the  stars  shone  and  the  wind  whistled 
amid  the  trees,  while  the  flowers  rested  and  drank  eagerly 
of  the  glistening  dew,  she,  fevered  and  worn,  raging  with 
impotent  hatred,  tried  to  form  some  plan  by  which  she 
could  free  herself  from  Ealph  Ashton. 

She  could  only  think  of  one  thing — that  was  to  tem- 
porize with  him  until  she  was  married  to  Philip.  Once 
Lady  Lisle,  she  would  defy  the  whole  world.  Nothing 
could  change,  alter,  or  undo  that.  Ealph  might  rage  and 
fume;  he  might  persecute  and  threaten;  but  if  she  were 
Philip’s  wife,  what  would  it  matter?  If  Lord  Lisle  should 
know  of  this  entanglement  beforehand,  with  his  keen  sense 
of  honor  she  knew  he  would  never  dream  of  marrying  her; 
but  if  he  heard  of  it  afterward,  for  his  own  sake  he  would 
hush  the  matter  and  shield  her. 

Once  married,  she  had  nothing  to  fear.  If  she  could 
keep  him  at  bay  until  then,  all  would  be  well.  She  must 
do  again  as  she  had  done  before — temporize  with  him. 
Ah!  if  she  could  but  go  away— go  to  some  quiet,  out-of- 
the-way  place  where  he  would  not  find  her  until  the  time 
fixed  for  the  wedding. 

To  think,  with  her,  was  ever  to  act.  When  the  early 
sunbeams  peeped  into  her  room,  when  the  birds  began 
their  morning  hymn,  and  the  flowers  opened  their  bright 
eyes,  Eita  was  seated  at  her  writing-table,  composing,  with 
all  the  skill  at  her  command,  a letter  that  should  pacify 
Ealph  Ashton. 

She  explained  her  “ seemingly  strange  behavior,”  and 
assured  him  that  she  was  longing  to  see  him.  But  would 
he  wait?  She  was  busily  engaged  in  removing  all  diffi- 


146 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


culties.  Would  he,  as  he  valued  her  love,  wait  one  week? 
She  would,  in  the  meantime,  arrange  all  for  their  meeting 
and  introduction  to  her  friends.  He  must  write  and  tell 
her  if  he  would  consent. 

It  was  a clever  letter.  Pity  that  such  powers  should  be 
so  falsely  applied.  Every  word  of  it  was  carefully  weighed. 
When  Ralph  Ashton  read  it  he  smiled  a bitter,  sardonic 
smile. 

64  She  writes  well/’  he  muttered.  44  A week  can  make 
no  difference.  As  I value  her  love,  I agree  to  it.” 

He  wrote  in  reply:  44 1 agree  to  your  arrangement.  I 
will  wait  a week;  at  the  end  of  that  time,  if  I do  not  hear 
from  you,  1 shall  call,  and  not  leave  the  house  until  1 
have  seen  you.  ” 

The  excitement,  the  fear  and  suspense  had  proved  too 
much  for  Rita’s  strength.  Daisy,  going  to  her  room  one 
hour  after  Ralph’s  answer  had  been  received  and  de- 
stroyed, found  her  lying  white  and  senseless  upon  the  sofa* 

Alarmed  and  anxious,  Daisy  hastily  summoned  Mrs. 
Wyverne  and  her  sister’s  maid,  Therese.  When  Rita 
opened  her  eyes  she  found  the  three  bending  over  her, 
with  startled  faces. 

44  My  dear  child,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne,  44  what  is  it — 
what  is  the  matter?” 

44 1 feel  ill,”  replied  Rita — 44  ill  and  overdone.  Take 
me  away— let  me  be  somewhere  quiet  and  still.” 

They  laid  her  to  rest  in  a darkened  room;  they  bathed 
her  hot  brow  in  cool,  fragrant  water,  and  then  retired,  to 
hold  an  anxious  consultation  among  themselves. 

They  had  noticed  a great  change  in  her;  her  spirits 
were  unequal;  there  were  times  when  both  had  seen  a 
wearied,  wan  look  on  her  face  and  a shadow  in  her  dark 
eyes.  There  could  be  but  one  cause  for  it,  and  that  was 
ill-health. 

Mrs.  Wyverne  thought  the  excitement  of  her  presenta- 
tion; the  continued  succession  of  gayeties,  the  whirl  of 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER.  14? 

pleasure,  the  never-ending  preparations  for  her  marriage 
had  been  altogether  too  much  for  her. 

“In  my  opinion,  Daisy,"  said  the  elder  lady,  “your 
sister  will  have  a serious  illness  unless  some  steps  are  taken 
at  once.  1 do  not  like  those  dead  faints;  they  show  great 
weakness.  I must  speak  to  Lord  Lisle." 

But  there  was  no  need.  Rita  sent  for  Mrs.  Wyverne, 
who  found  her  lying  pale  and  quiet,  with  a strange  soften- 
ing of  her  proud,  haughty  face. 

“I  am  glad  you  are  better,  Rita,"  said  Mrs.  Wyverne; 
“ but  1 am  uneasy  about  your  health." 

“It  is  of  that  I wish  to  speak  to  you,"  replied  Rita. 
“ I have  not  complained — 1 dislike  complaints,  but  I do 
not  feel  well;  I have  not  been  well  for  some  time.  1 am 
tired,  wearied,  longing  for  rest." 

“ And  rest  you  shall  have,"  said  Mrs.  Wyverne,  whose 
heart  was  touched  by  the  young  girl's  sad  face  and  plaint- 
ive voice.  “ The  best  of  the  season  is  over  now.  We  will 
go  away  for  a time — you,  Daisy,  and  myself.  Would  you 
like  that?" 

“ Better  than  anything  in  the  world!"  she  cried,  grate- 
fully. “ How  kind  you  are  to  me!  Yes,  I should  like  a 
few  weeks  of  perfect  rest  and  repose  before  my  marriage — 
and  the  time  draws  very  near." 

“Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wyverne;  “the  time  draws  very 
near.  Where  would  you  like  to  go?  Lisle  Court  is  all  in 
a ferment. " 

“Let  us  go  to  some  quiet  spot,"  said  Rita;  “ a place 
unknown  to  the  great  world,  where  we  can  be  quite 
alone." 

“ 1 know  of  a pretty  little  watering-place  in  Wales.  1 
went  there  many  years  ago.  It  is  twenty  miles  from 
Swansea.  It  is  very  quite  and  retired.  Would  you  like 
that?" 

“ Very  much,"  she  replied.  “I  can  not  thank  you, 
hut  indeed  1 am  grateful.  Will  ^ou  promise  me  one  thing 


148 


LORD  LISTENS  DAUGHTER. 


more — promise  that  no  one  shall  know  where  we  are  going 
except  Lord  Lisle?  Do  not  allow  it  to  be  mentioned  be- 
fore the  servants  or  we  shall  have  crowds  of  fashionable 
friends  invading  our  retreat.  If  you  will  promise  me  that 
I shall  soon  be  well.” 

She  drew  Mrs.  Wyverne’s  face  down  to  her  own  and 
kissed  it. 

tfC  It  shall  be  just  as  you  say,  my  dear  child,”  said  the 
elder  lady;  64  even  Therese  shall  not  know  where  we  are 
going  until  she  has  left  the  house.  Lord  Lisle  can  keep  a 
secret,  so  can  1.  But  what  a strange,  nervous  fancy  it  is!” 
she  continued,  with  a smile.  “ However,  if  rest  can  re- 
store you  to  health  you  shall  soon  be  well.” 

Lord  Lisle  cordially  approved  of  the  plan.  He  had 
noticed  some  strange  change  in  Rita,  and  thought  the 
arrangement  a very  sensible  one. 

Daisy  was  only  too  happy  to  leave  gay,  crowded  London. 

Nor  was  Rita  insincere.  She  was  really  ill,  and  worn 
out  with  the  struggle.  She  wrote  another  letter  to  Ralph, 
telling  him  she  was  ill,  and  unable  to  leave  her  room.  His 
reply  did  not  tend  to  comfort  her. 

“ 111  or  well,”  he  said,  “ she  must  see  him  at  the  end  of 
the  week.” 

The  indisposition  of  the  beautiful  Miss  Lisle  was  much 
deplored  by  the  great  world.  She  had  grown  so  popular, 
no  ball  or  fete  was  considered  complete  without  her.  It 
was  a sudden  eclipse  of  the  brightest  star.  Condolence 
and  sympathy,  in  the  shape  of  cards  and  letters,  poured  in 
upon  her.  Mrs.  Wyverne  was  flattered,  Daisy  amused,  by 
the  sensation. 

Her  secret  was  well  kept.  No  one  knew  anything  of  the 
intended  journey.  Her  maid  was  told  that  Miss  Lisle  was 
going  away  for  a few  days*  rest  and  quiet.  Mrs.  Wyverne 
humored  every  whim  and  caprice,  as  though  Rita  had  been 
a sick  child. 

Lord  Lisle  promised  to  join  them  soon.  One  fine  morn- 


LOUT)  LISLE* S DAUGHTER. 


149 


ing,  three  days  before  the  time  appointed  for  seeing  Ralph, 
the  three  ladies,  attended  by  servants,  left  London  for 
Sunbay,  a quiet,  retired  spot  on  the  southern  shores  of 
Wales. 

At  the  first  view  Sunbay  was  desolate — a wide  sweep  of 
waters,  and  a clear,  vast  sky.  Grand  old  hills  sloped  down 
to  the  shore.  Every  here  and  there  a pretty  little  villa 
peeped  from  among  the  trees.  There  was  no  town,  no 
regular  streets — no  place  could  be  imagined  more  silent  or 
unknown.  It  was  hidden  altogether  from  the  great  noisy 
world. 

A nicely  furnished  house  was  taken,  and  the  ladies  com- 
fortably established  therein. 

“ Will  this  suit  you,  Rita?**  inquired  Mrs.  Wy verne, 
anxiously.  “ Nothing  could  be  more  tranquil  or  dull.** 

“ I can  not  tell  you  how  grateful  and  pleasant  the  quiet 
is  to  me,**  she  replied. 

It  was  a luxury  to  sit  still,  and  not  tremble  at  every  ring 
of  the  bell  or  .step  upon  the  stairs;  it  was  a luxury  to  walk 
out  in  the  broad  open  day,  and  not  fear  to  meet  the  man 
she  dreaded  at  every  corner  of  the  road. 

To  Daisy  it  was  all  a mystery — she  could  not  under- 
stand so  great  a change  in  her  sister  Rita,  whose  life  was 
one  longing  for  pleasure  and  . excitement,  to  shun  every 
one,  and  seek  quiet.  She  had  never  quite  understood  her 
foster-sister,  who  was  now  more  of  a mystery  than  ever. 

i _ — __ 

j 

| CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Ih  a few  days  after  their  ai  rival  Rita  began  to  recover 
herself.  The  panic  of  fear  and  dread  that  had  seized  her 
died  away.  All  now  seemed  safe  and  secure.  Once  mar- 
ried, she  had  nothing  to  fear,  and  every  day  brought  her 
marriage  nearer.  It  was  not  likely  Ralph  would  find  her., 
No  matter  what  any  one  said,  she  did  not  intend  to  leave 


ISO  LORD  LISLES  DAUGHTER. 

Sunbay  until  a day  or  two  previous  to  the  one  fixed  for  he? 
marriage. 

She  laughed  triumphantly  to  herself.  Yes,  once  more 
schemes  and.  maneuvers  had  prospered;  once  more  fate 
had  played  into  her  hands,  and  just  retribution  was  de- 
layed. 

The  color  returned  to  her  face  and  the  smile  to  her  lips. 

44  This  rest  is  curing  you,  Rita,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne. 
64  Lord  Lisle  will  hardly  know  you.” 

44  1 do  not  feel  the  same,”  she  replied.  44 1 think  com- 
ing here  has  saved  my  life.” 

Nothing  happened  to  disturb  her.  From  London  and 
from  Lisle  Court,  daily,  letters  told  how  nearly  everything 
was  prepared  for  Miss  Lisle’s  marriage.  The  magnificent 
jewels  were  on  view  at  Messrs.  Storr  & Mortimer’s;  the 
carriages  were  to  be  seen  at  Hewson’s;  the  trousseau , one 
of  the  most  exquisite  and  elaborate  ever  prepared,  was  in 
the  hands  of  Mme.  Cerise. 

At  Lisle  Court  all  the  more  modern  rooms  had  been  re- 
furnished in  the  most  recherche  and  luxurious  style.  From 
44  rosy  morn  until  dewy  eve  ” Rita  heard  of  nothing  but 
the  grandeur  and  luxury  prepared  for  her. 

The  wedding-day  was  fixed  for  the  13th  of  August,  and 
it  was  now  the  second.  Lord  Lisle  wrote  to  say  that  if  Rita 
felt  quite  recovered,  and  Mrs.  Wyverne  would  receive  him, 
he  should  like  to  spend  a few  days  at  Sunbay. 

She  could  not  allege  any  excuse,  neither  did  she  wish  to 
do  so.  Her  marriage  would  give  her  the  title  and  position 
she  had  longed  for;  but  she  valued,  even  above  that,  the 
love  of  the  man  she  was  going  to  marry. 

She  wrote  a few  lines  to  Lord  Lisle — a few  loving  words, 
such  as  she  had  never  used  to  him  before — saying  how 
pleased  she  would  be  to  see  him.  Years  afterward,  Lord 
Lisle  read  those  words,  and  wondered  at  the  love  of  that 
ambitious  heart  for  him. 

When  he  arrived  at  Sunbay,  Mrs.  Wyverne  was  in  the 


10RD  lisle*s  daughter.  lSl 

house  alone.  Eita  and  Daisy  had  gone  out  for  a ramble 
on  the  cliffs,  she  said,  and  he  had  better  join  them. 

“Philip,”  said  considerate  Mrs.  Wy verne,  “ will  you 
tell  Daisy  I want  her  to  write  some  little  notes  for  me,  if 
she  will  return  home  at  once?” 

Lord  Lisle  promised  to  deliver  the  message.  In  the  far 
distance  he  saw  two  girls  sitting  on  the  height  of  a tall 
white  cliff.  Lord  Lisle  never  forgot  the  picture.  The  two 
faces — so  beautiful,  yet  so  unlike— standing  out  in  bold 
relief  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  the  purple  heather  spread- 
ing around  them,  and  the  waves  breaking  at  their  feet. 

He  was  true.  Even  then  he  would  not  look  at  the  fair, 
spiritual  face  and  the  golden  head  that  drooped  sadly  as 
Daisy  caught  sight  of  him.  He  only  looked  at  Eita,  whose 
beauty  was  heightened  by  the  bright  blush  that  welcomed 
him. 

After  a few  words  of  greeting  Lord  Lisle  delivered  his 
message,  and  Daisy  turned  away  with  a smile.  As  the 
house  was  almost  in  sight,  he  did  not  offer  to  accompany 
her,  but  sat  down  in  the  purple  heather  by  Eita*s  side. 

“ 1 need  not  ask  if  you  are  better,”  he  said,  gallantly; 
“ you  never  looked  so  well.  I imagine  your  illness  was  a 
complete  overdose  of  pleasure,  Eita.  I am  amazed  when 
1 think  of  all  the  toil  you  fashionable  ladies  undergo.  ” 

She  made  some  laughing  reply,  and  then  they  sat  for 
some  minutes  in  silence,  the  sunny,  smiling  sea  breaking 
with  a musical  murmur  at  their  feet. 

The  measure  of  her  content  was  full.  She  was  safe,  and 
the  man  she  loved  better  than  all  the  world  sat  at  her  side. 
When  Lord  Lisle  spoke  again  his  voice  had  changed — there 
was  deep  emotion  in  every  tone. 

“Eita,”  he  said,  producing  a small  morocco  case, 
“ there  was  one  strange  omission  at  the  time  of  our  be- 
trothal. I gave  you  no  ring;  I have  brought  you  one  now, 
may  1 place  it  upon  your  finger,  and  will  you  promise  m© 
never  to  remove  it?” 


m 


LORI)  LISLE?S  DAUGHTER. 


He  never  forgot  the  love  that  shone  in  her  dark  eyes  as 
she  raised  them  to  his  face. 

44  I will  never  remove  it,  Philip/’  she  said,  gently. 
44  While  you  live,  in  my  heart,  that  ring  shall  remain  upon 
my  hand.  ” 

She  gave  a little  cry  of  pleasure  and  surprise  when  he 
opened  the  case,  and  took  from  it  one  of  the  prettiest  and 
most  costly  rings  she  had  ever  seen.  It  was  of  pure  pale 
gold;  one  large  diamond  of  the  first  water  was  surrounded 
by  small  but  magnificent  rubies. 

44  I)o  you  like  it?”  he  asked,  gently. 

44  More  than  any  jewel  I have,”  she  replied. 

He  took  the  firm  white  hand  into  his  own,  and  placed 
the  ring  on  her  finger. 

44  You  will  never  part  with  it?”  he  said. 

44  Never;  neither  in  life  nor  in  death,”  she  answered. 

He  kissed  the  jeweled  hand. 

44  Suppose  I am  very  presumptuous,”  he  said,  44  and  ask 
for  a reward;  shall  you  be  very  angry?” 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  raised  her  face  to  his, 
and  he  touched  the  lovely,  blushing  cheek  with  his  lips. 

44  Neither  in  life  nor  in  death!”  he  heard  her  murmur; 
but  he  had  no  clew  to  her  thoughts. 

So  they  sat  through  the  long,  bright  summer  hours, 
talking  happily  of  the  future  that  lay  unruffled  as  the  sum- 
mer sea  before  them.  Lord  Lisle  saw  that  Pita’s  eyes 
never  once  quitted  the  ring.  She  watched  the  diamond 
sparkling  and  gleaming  in  the  sun.  He  was  touched  more 
than  he  cared  to  own  by  that  expression  of  her  face. 

Suddenly  he  looked  at  his  watch.  44 1 must  write  to 
London,”  he  said.  44 1 promised  not  to  forget.  Will  you 
return  to  the  house,  Pita,  or  shall  I come  back  for  you — • 
which  would  you  prefer?” 

44  I have  my  book  with  me,”  she  replied.  f,t  The  cliff  is 
far  more  pleasant  than  the  house  this  warm  day.  When 


LORD  LlSLE*S  DAUGHTER.  153 

you  have  finished  your  letter  come  back  for  me,  if  you 

will.” 

Her  eyes  followed  him  until  he  passed  out  of  sight;  then 
they  wandered  to  the  ring. 

She  opened  her  book,  but  never  read  one  word. 

“ How  kind  he  is,”  she  said  to  herself;  “how  noble, 
how  unlike  all  other  men!  Ah,  1 wish — how  I wish  1 
could  have  won  him,  and  have  won  all  that  is  now  mine, 
without  evil  or  wrong!  1 detest  wrong  when  I look  at 
him!” 

A strong  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder;  a hot,  fierce 
grasp  held  her  hands. 

“I  have  found  you!”  hissed  a low;  voice  into  her  ear. 
“ There  is  no  spot  upon  earth  where  you  could  hide  from 
me.” 

She  started  to  her  feet  with  a cry  of  more  than  mortal 
agony,  and  stood  confronting  Ralph  Ashton. 

“1  have  found  you!”  he  said  again,  with  a sneering 
laugh.  “ You  weak,  pitiful  coward,  do  you  think  you  can 
ever  deceive  me?”  Ah,  me! — the  wild  anguish  of  that 
face! 

“Ralph!”  she  said,  at  length,  in  a low,  hoarse  voice, 
“ have  you  no  pity?” 

“ No,”  he  replied;  “none.  1 have  come  to  claim  my 
wife,  and  I will  have  her!” 

“But,”  sbe  interrupted,  faintly,  “all  that  is  changed 
now.  Were  I still  Margaret  Rivers  such  a thing  might  be 
possible.  You  can  see  as  well  as  myself  the  impassable 
distance  between  you  and  Miss  Lisle.” 

“ There  is  no  distance  between  us,”  he  said,  with  a 
mocking  laugh.  “ Rita,”  he  continued,  passionately, 
“ how  can  you  think  circumstances  can  change  such  love 
as  mine?  Had  fortune  come  to  me  instead  of  you,  I 
should  have  laid  it  at  your  feet — crowned  you  with  it — not 
spurned  and  despissd  you.  All  words  are  useless.  I am 
here  to  claim  your  promise.  Will  you  be  my  wife?” 


154  tout)  LISLE *S  LAUGHTER. 

Face  to  face  with  danger  so  long  dreaded,  her  courage 
rose. 

“ No,”  she  said,  “ never!  Ralph,  I do  not  want  to 
quarrel  with  you,  but  you  must  see  yourself  I could  neyer 
be  your  wife!” 

44  Is  that  fair-haired  aristocrat  who  sat  here  your  lover?” 
he  asked,  fiercely. 

“ Yes,”  she  replied,  “ he  is  my  lover — Lord  Lisle — and 
I have  promised  to  marry  him.  There  is  some  one  to  take 
my  pj,rt,  and  punish  you  if  you  persecute  me.” 

He  recoiled  from  her  words.  “ Good  heavens!”  he 
cried;  44  how  heartless  women  are!  Four  years  ago  you 
said  you  loved  me — you  gave  me  sweet  words,  sweet  kisses 
— your  head  was  pillowed  on  my  breast — you  swore  you 
would  be  my  wife!  You  took  my  heart  from  me,  and 
held  it  in  your  hands!  Now  you  fling  it  back  to  me,  and 
talk  of  • punishing  9 for  that  very  love  you  once  returned!” 

46  Hush!”  she  said,  with  a gesture  of  queenly  dignity. 
44  Do  not ’remind  me  of  my  past  folly — I regret  it!” 

“Folly!”  he  cried.  “Oh,  Rita!  is  it  for  this  I have 
toiled  all  these  years;  is  this  the  welcome  you  give  me? 
Do  you  remember  that  night  before  1 left  you  in  the  gar- 
den at  Queers  Lynne?” 

“ Hush!”  she  said  again,  imperiously.  “ I will  not  be 
reminded  of  those  times;  they  are  nothing  to  me.  Surely, 
Ralph,”  she  continued,  more  gently,  “you  must  see 
everything  is  changed.  I should  lose  all  my  friends,  my 
fortune,  my  position,  everything  I value  most,  if  I be- 
came your  wife.” 

“ So  your  new  name,  your  new  friends,  your  wealth  and 
grandeur  are  the  real  barriers  between  us?  I can  remove 
them,  Rita!”  he  said,  doggedly. 

A look  of  startled  fear  broke  the  proud  calm  of  her  face. 

“ Once,  and  for  the  last  time,”  he  said,  “ will  you  keep 
your  promise  to  me,  and  be  my  wife?  Answer  me!” 

“ Never!”  she  replied;  “ come  what  may.” 


LORD  LISLE*S  DAUGHTER.' 


mu 


His  face  grew  livid  with  anger. 

“Without  doubt/*  he  said,  “you  love  the  fair-haired 
stripling  who  has  supplanted  me?** 

“ You  may  as  well  know  the  truth/*  she  said,  reckless- 
ly, “I  do  love  him!** 

“ Then  go  to  him/*  he  said,  hoarsely;  “ go  and  tell  him 
you  are  a living  lie — a false,  mean  traitress!  Tell  him  you 
have  stolen  a name  and  a birthright — that  you  are  Mar- 
garet Rivers,  and  no  more  Lord  Lisle*s  daughter  than  I 
am!  Tell  him  that,  and  in  his  turn  he  will  spurn  you!** 

He  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  burning  torrent  of  words, 
frightened  at  the  white  despair  that  came  into  her  face. 

“ What  do  you  mean?**  she  asked.  “ What  can  you 
know  of  me?** 

“I  know  all  your  pretty  plot  from  beginning  to  end,” 
he  retorted;  “ and  1 should  never  have  spoiled  it  had  you 
been  true  to  me.  Even  now  I will  keep  your  secret  if  you 
will  be  my  wife.  ** 

She  waved  him  from  her  with  a superb  disdain  that  in- 
furiated him. 

“ Tell  me/*  she  said;  “ what  do  you  mean?** 

He  seemed  to  take  a pleasure  in  looking  upon  her 
agonized  face. 

“ 1 shall  be  obliged — much  against  my  will — to  revert 
to  those  past  times  that  no  longer  belong  to  you/*  he  said, 
mockingly;  “ to  that  very  evening  indeed  when  I bade  you 
farewell,  and  you  took  the  oath  that  has  so  easily  been 
broken.** 

“ Go  on!**  she  said,  hoarsely,  as  he  paused. 

“ I asked  you  for  a keepsake,  and  you  gave  me  an  old 
book.  Neither  you  nor  I knew  what  was  fastened  in  it.  ’* 

“ What!**  she  gasped.  “ Do  not  torture  me,  Ralph!** 

“ I spare  you  as  I have  been  spared/*  he  retorted.  “ 1 
will  tell  you  what  was  in  it;  proof  of  the  lie  you  have  told 
and  acted — proofs  that  the  golden-haired  girl  you  have 


156  LORD  lisle's  daughter. 

cheated  and  betrayed  is  the  rightful  daughter  of  Lord 
Lisle  !** 

Her  face  could  grow  no  whiter;  its  pallor  was  dreadful 
to  witness.  The  quivering  lips  could  utter  no  words. 

44 1 will  show  you/*  he  continued.  44  Stand  where  you 
are.  1 would  rather  trust  to  a tiger  than  to  a false  wom- 
an. Seel  Do  you  remember  the  book?** 

He  took  from  his  pocket  the  volume  she  had  so  care- 
lessly given  him  that  fatal  evening.  He  opened  it,  and 
showed  her  some  folded  papers  lying  between  the  leaves. 

44 1 did  not  find  these  until  I was  far  from  England/*  he 
said — 44  far  out  on  the  deep  seas.  I little  thought  then 
what  I held  in  my  hands.  Draw  nearer,  that  you  may 
see.  ** 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  unhappy  girl  made  one  step  toward  him,  her  eyes 
riveted  on  the  papers  he  held. 

44  See!**  cried  Ralph  Ashton,  mockingly;  44  this  is  the 
first  proof  of  your  lie!** 

He  held  toward  her  a portrait,  the  pictured  face  of  a 
little  child — a sweet,  spiritual  face,  with  tender  eyes  and 
sensitive  lips;  golden  curls  ran  over  the  little  head.  Un- 
derneath the  portrait  was  written,  in  a clear,  legible  hand, 
somewhat  faded : 

44  The  portrait  of  my  dear  little  Daisy,  given  to  Susan 
Rivers  by  her  sincere  and  grateful  friend,  Margaret.** 

44  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  this,  1 suppose?**  said 
Ralph,  sneeringly.  44  This  face  of  the  child  Daisy  here  is, 
as  any  one  can  see,  the  face  of  the  young  girl  you  call 
Susan  Rivers  daughter.  You  do  not  resemble  this  por- 
trait; your  hair  never  was  golden,  your  eyes  never  blue. 
You  are,  perhaps,  more  beautiful;  but  you  never  looked 
true  and  guileless  as  this  child  does.  I have  yet  another 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


157 


proof.  Here  is  a letter  written  by  Lord  Lisle’s  wife  just 
before  she  set  sail,  it  seems,  for  India.  Listen.  She  says: 

“ ‘ I send  my  darling’s  portrait;  it  is  just  like  her. 
May  she  grow  up  fair  and  innocent  as  she  is  now.  Call 
her  Daisy,  nurse,  to  distinguish  her  from  your  own  little 
Eita — the  pretty,  dark-haired  child,  who  will  be  a sister  to 
my  darling.  Do  not  let  her  forget  me.  When  you  take 
her  in  your  arms  tell  her  how  I loved  her— how  I used  to 
kiss  her  golden  curls.  I have  one  with  me.  ’ 

‘ 4 There  is  more  of  it,”  continued  Ealph,  “but  you 
have  heard  enough.  The  fair-haired,  fair-faced  child 
called  Daisy,  whose  portrait  I hold  here,  is  Lord  Lisle’s 
daughter.  You  can  sooner  deny  the  sun  that  shines  in  the 
heavens,  or  the  sea  that  rolls  at  your  feet,  than  that.” 

“ I do  deny  it,”  she  said,  boldly.  “ You  may  do  your 
worst.  I deny  it  all.” 

“ You  are  clever  at  plots  and  plans,”  he  said;  “ others 
are  as  skillful  as  you.  You  roused  a demon  when  you  in- 
sulted me.  I have  been  to  Deepdale.  1 did  not  betray  you, 
Eita;  but  there  are  those  living  there  who  still  remember 
the  beautiful  dark-eyed  child  of  Susan  Eivers— -who  re- 
member the  strange  lady  coming  and  bringing  the  little 
Daisy  with  her.  There  are  plenty  who  would  swear  to 
your  identity— and  to  hers.” 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  a low  cry,  and  he  continued: 
“ You  may  brave  me  and  defy  me;  but,  remember, 
surely  as  you  court  inquiry,  so  surely  is  your  cause  lost. 
The  evidence  I hold  here  is  too  strong,  the  evidence  that 
can  be  obtained  in  Deepdale  is  stronger  still.  You  will 
have  no  chance.  You  will  lose  the  name,  the  rank,  the 
position,  the  fortune  you  have  won — ah!  and  you  will  lose 
that  fine  lover  of  yours!  Men  of  that  stamp  do  not  wed 
cheats  and  liars.  How  long  would  his  love  survive  the 
knowledge  of  what  you  have  done?” 

Jfot  one  moment — she  knew  it;  and  the  truth  of  his 


158  LORD  lisle’s  daughter. 

words  struck  her  like  a sharp  sword.  The  ring  he  had 
given  her  gleamed  and  glistened  in  the  sun.  She  laid  her 
lips  upon  it  with  a passionate  cry. 

“ Now,  IJha/’  said  Ralph,  triumphantly,  44  you  see  you 
are  utterly  and  completely  in  my  power.  Let  us  make 
terms.  I do  not  wish  to  be  hard  upon  you.  I will  keep 
your  secret,  and  you  shall  keep  your  home  and  station  if 
you  will  marry  me.  ” 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  continued  eagerly: 

44  It  will  not  be  difficult  to  tell  this  Lord  Lisle  that  I was 
your  own  true  love  years  ago,  and  that  1 have  returned 
from  sea.  Tell  him  you  care  most  for  me,  and  want  your 
freedom.  He  will  give  it  to  you.  We  can  be  married 
then.  You  are  rich  enough.  The  late  Lord  Lisle  left  you 
plenty.  We  can  live  upon  it.  If  you  refuse  to  do  this — 
nay,  do  not  turn  from  me — 1 will  go  first  to  your  lover, 
then  to  the  true  Miss  Lisle,  and  tell  the  story  of  your 
shame  and  crime  to  both.  I will  make  all  England  ring 
with  your  story.  I will  make  your  name  a by-word  and  a 
mockery  to  all  those  who  have  flattered  and  praised  you. 
4 The  would-be  Miss  Lisle/  shall  figure  in  police  reports 
and  in  the  prison-cell.” 

He  stopped,  exhausted  by  his  own  violence.  There 
came  no  cry  from  her  pale  lips.  She  crouched  upon  the 
ground  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

44  You  may  think  yourself  well  off/’  he  said,  44  if  no 
worse  punishment  than  marrying  me  comes  to  you.  I am 
no  saint.  1 would  do  much  to  win  gold  and  fortune,  but 
I could  not  have  betrayed  the  living  and  the  dead  as  you 
have  done.  Let  me  tell  you,  in  all  your  insolent  pride  of 
beauty,  passionately  as  I love  you,  there  are  times  when  I 
recoil  in  dismay  and  loathing  at  the  thought  of  what  you 
are.” 

She  could  sink  no  lower,  when  he  who  had  looked  upon 
her  as  a goddess  and  a queen  dared  to  say  this. 

She  raised  her  despairing  face  to  the  smiling  summer 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  159 

sky.  Alas!  that  crime  and  evil  should  have  marred  such 

beauty. 

“ Ralph,”  she  said,  gently,  “ do  not  deal  so  hardly  with 
me.  You  have  brought  me  low;  have  you  no  mercy  for 
me — no  pity?  I can  not  marry  you;  1 love  Lord  Lisle.  ” 

“ You  can  make  your  choice  of  the  two  evils,”  he  said, 
carelessly.  “ I swear  not  to  alter  one  word  of  what  I have 
said!” 

“ Have  pity  upon  me,  Ralph!”  she  moaned.  But  there 
was  no  relenting  in  his  dark,  handsome  face.  He  stood 
over  her  as  she  knelt  in  the  purplo  heather  at  his  feet,  and 
she  saw  all  pleading  was  lost  upon  him. 

“ Give  me  time,  at  least?”  she  said. 

“Yes,”  he  replied;  “you  may  have  time.  You  want 
to  contrive  more  plans  and  schemes,  but  you  can  not. 
You  are  in  my  power.  I will  give  you  time,  but  I will  not 
lose  sight  of  you.” 

“We  leave  here  soon,”  she  cried;  and  the  anguish  of 
her  voice  almost  touched  him. 

“ Leave  when  you  will,”  he  said;  “ I shall  follow.  You 
may  take  another  week  to  think  of  your  answer,  if  you 
like;  but  you  will  not  play  me  false  again,  for  1 shall  not 
lose  sight  of  you.  Tell  me  where  and  when  to  meet  you; 
I will  be  there.  ” 

“We  are  going  to  Lisle  Court  on  Thursday,”  she  said. 
“ Meet  me  early  on  Saturday  morning,  at  seven  o’clock,  in 
the  park.  You  shall  have  my  answer  then.” 

“ I know  beforehand  what  it  will  be,  my  proud,  dainty 
beauty,”  he  said.  “ You  will  be  Mrs.  Ralph  Ashton,  and 
keep  your  ill-gotten  wealth.  You  will  be  my  wife,  as  you 
swore  to  be!” 

He  bent  over  her  as  though  to  kiss  her  face,  as  Philip 
had  done  so  short  a time  before.  She  turned  from  him 
with  a cry  of  disgust. 

“You  shall  pay  for  that!”  he  said,  fiercely.  “Some 
people  would  not  care  to  kiss  such  lying  lips.” 


160  LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

He  left  her  abruptly,  going -with  quick  footsteps  down 
the  cliff. 

44  I have  humbled  her,”  he  said,  with  a sneer;  44  she 
will  never  pass  me  by  again.  Poor  Rita!  I wish  it  had  all 
been  different!” 

He  was  gone,  and  she  stood  alone  in  her  anguish  and 
shame,  alone  in  her  misery,  life  all  wretched,  her  hopes 
all  blighted. 

44  The  hour  was  cursed,”  she  said,  44  when  I took  evil 
for  my  good.” 

Philip’s  ring  was  shining  upon  her  finger;  his  words 
still  sounded  in  her  ears;  his  caressing  touch  was  still 
warm  upon  her  face,  and  she  would  never  hear  loving 
words  from  him  again.  He  must  either  loathe  her  as  a 
traitress  and  most  wicked  betrayer  of  trust,  or  he  must 
look  coldly  upon  her,  believing  that  she  preferred  that 
coarse,  savage  man  to  him.  Do  as  she  would,  Philip  was 
lost  to  her. 

From  the  chaos  of  thought  that  surged  through  her 
brain,  that  idea  was  the  only  one  that  came  clearly  to  her. 
Philip  was  lost  to  her.  The  words  seemed  to  be  all  round 
her  in  letters  of  flame;  the  sunny  sky  seemed  falling  into 
the  smiling  sea.  A red  mist  came  before  her  eyes  and 
blinded  them.  Without  cry  or  sound,  she  fell  as  one  dead 
among  the  purple  heather  and  fragrant  grass. 

Lord  Lisle  finished  his  letter,  and  then  started  out  once 
more  to  fetch  Rita.  Mrs.  Wy verne  met  him  as  he  was 
crossing  the  hall. 

44  You  will  have  to  use  a little  more  expedition  over  this 
walk  than  you  did  over  the  first  one,”  she  said,  smilingly; 
44  we  keep  primitive  hours  here,  Philip.  Dinner  will  be 
ready  at  five.” 

He  made  some  light,  laughing  reply,  and  hastened  on 
to  the  cliff.  Did  his  eyes  deceive  him,  or  was  it  only 
fancy?  Lord  Lisle  felt  sure  that  he  saw  a man  rush 
hastily  from  Rita’s  side — a dark,  handsome  man,  who 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  lOl 

walked  hastily  past  him,  with  an  angry,  heated  look  upon 
his  face. 

He  reached  the  top  of  the  cliff.  He  had  left  Eita  not 
more  than  an  hour  since,  bright,  beautiful,  full  of  hope 
and  love,  the  diamond  in  her  ring  no  brighter  than  the 
light  in  her  eyes.  He  found  her,  white  and  senselss  as  one 
stricken  with  death,  lying  crushed  and  helpless  among  the 
purple  heather.  In  one  moment  he  had  raised  her,  and 
pillowed  her  head  on  his  breast. 

44  Eita,  my  darling!"  he  cried,  44  what  is  the  matter?" 

He  kissed  the  white  face  over  and  over  again;  it  seemed 
to  him,  then,  that  she  was  like  some  dying,  helpless  child. 

The  dark  eyes  opened  slowly.  Ah,  me!  the  world  of 
unutterable  woe  in  their  shadowed  depths! 

44  Eita,"  said  Lord  Lisle,  44  thank  Heaven,  you  are  bet- 
ter! You  frightened  me.  What  is  the  matter — what 
made  you  ill?" 

She  made  no  reply,  but  turned  from  the  kindly,  honest 
face  bent  over  her. 

44  Have  you  been  alarmed?"  he  asked,  eagerly.  44  I 
thought  I saw  some  great,  rough  man  rushing  away. 
Have  you  been  annoyed  in  any  way?" 

44  No,"  she  said,  in  a low,  quiet  voice;  64 1 have  been 
too  long  in  the  sun — it  has  made  me  faint." 

64  But  Mrs.  Wy verne  told  me  you  were  quite  strong 
again,"  said  Lord  Lisle,  anxiously. 

She  looked  so  weary  and  distressed  that  he  was  at  a loss 
what  to  think  or  say. 

44 1 am  sure  something  has  happened,  Eita,"  persisted 
Lord  Lisle;  44  a little  warm,  pleasant  sunshine  could  never 
affect  you  in  this  way.  Has  that  man  annoyed  you,  and 
you  do  not  like  to  say  so?  I feel  certain  that  I saw  him 
speaking  to  you." 

44  You  are  mistaken,"  she  said,  wearily.  44  Oh,  Philip! 
do  not  tease  me.  1 am  tired;  take  me  home." 

He  said  no  more,  but  a shadow  fell  over  his  bright. 


162 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 

handsome  face;  he  felt  something  like  constraint  and  sus* 
picion  creep  into  his  heart.  ^ 

“Philip/'  said  Rita,  “say  nothing  to  Mrs.  Wyverne 
and  Daisy;  they  tease  me,  and  make  themselves  unhappy 
when  1 am  ill." 

“ So  you  never  tell  them,  and  let  them  think  you  are 
growing  strong?"  he  said.  “ I shall  have  to  take  care  of 
you  myself.  I shall  stay  here  to-morrow  and  take  you  to 
Lisle  Court  myself.  " 

When  Rita  came  down  to  dinner  there  was  but  little 
trace  of  her  illness.  Jewels  and  dress  liid  the  anxious, 
trembling  heart.  Still,  Mrs.  Wyverne  would  make  what 
Daisy  called  a sensation.  After  dinner  she  forced  Rita  to 
rest  upon  the  little  couch  Philip'  placed  near  the  open 
window. 

“ Philip  may  read  to  you,"  she  said;  “ but  you  must  be 
quiet." 

Daisy  played  while  the  sun  set  over  the  rippling  sea;  and 
the  birds  sung  their  evening  hymns;  and  Philip  talked  to 
the  unhappy  girl,  whose  quivering  lips  could  hardly  smile. 

“ You  are  better  now,"  he  said,  looking  anxiously  into 
her  face.  “ Ah,  Rita!  you  must  be  more  careful;  you  are 
not  strong.  For  my  sake  you  must  take  care  of  your- 
self." 

She  could  have  cried  aloud  with  the  intensity  of  the  pain 
his  words  caused  her,  and  he  could  not  avoid  remarking 
the  strange  expression  of  her  features. 

“ Are  you  not  happy,  Rita?"  he  asked,  bending  over 
her.  “ Does  it  pain  you  to  think  that  your  life  will  all  be 
passed  with  me?  Do  you  not  love  me,  that  you  look  so  sad 
when  I speak  of  our  future?" 

“ Love  you?"  she  said,  raising  her  dark  eyes  to  his. 
“ Yes,  Philip;  I love  you  so  dearly,  so  well,  that  I wish  I 
could  die  now,  with  your  face  looking  kindly  upon  me,  and 
your  voice  sounding  in  my  ear!" 


LORD  LISLE^  DAUGHTER. 


163 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

The  sun  shone  clear  and  bright  in  the  midday  heavens 
when  the  travelers  reached  Lisle  Court.  Never  had  the 
grand  old  building  looked  to  greater  advantage.  Never 
had  the  woods  and  pleasure  grounds  looked  so  fair. 

The  birds  sung  gayly  in  the  heart  of  the  deep  woods; 
the  summer  air  thrilled  with  their  melody;  brilliant  flowers 
shone  from  the  midst  of  green  foliage.  There  were  not 
many  fairer  or  more  brilliant  spots  in  England  than  Lisle 
Court  as  it  looked  that  bright  morning  in  August. 

It  was  Mrs.  Wy verne's  wish  that  the  wedding  should 
take  place  there.  Lord  Lisle,  too,  was  pleased  with  the 
idea.  The  preparations  for  the  marriage  had  been  carried 
on  with  magnificent  disregard  of  expense.  Rita's  heart 
beat  high  with  gratified  vanity.  Ah,  if  she  could  but 
have  thrown  the  black  shadow  that  haunted  her  into  the 
background!  If  she  could  but  for  one  moment  have  for- 
gotten Ralph  Ashton,  and  felt  safe! 

Never  had  the  splendor  of  this  grand  old  home  of  the 
Lisles  been  so  dear  to  her.  The  sumptuous  furniture,  the 
costly  pictures,  the  wonderful  array  of  gold  and  silver 
plate,  the  numerous  servants,  the  comfort  and  luxury  that 
pervaded  the  whole  establishment — all  this,  but  for  Ralph 
Ashton,  might  be  hers! 

But  for  him,  she,  next  week,  might  be  enthroned  mis- 
tress and  queen— she  would  be  Lady  Lisle — every  hope  and 
desire  of  her  heart  gratified — but  for  him! 

As  she  looked  with  wistful  eyes  upon  the  luxuries  around 
her,  a deep,  deadly  hatred  rose  in  her  heart  against  him 
who  would  fain  deprive  her  of  all.  She  said  to  herself 
that  she  would  rather  die  a thousand  deaths  than  be  his 
wife.  He  should  never  triumph  over  her.  She  had  found 


164  LORD  LISLE5  S LAUGHTER. 

but  little  time  for  thinking  what  her  answer  would  be. 
She  must  decide  that  night. 

Lord  Lisle  had  intended  to  remain  for  an  hour  or  two  at 
the  Court,  then  hasten  on  to  London,  where  a multiplicity 
of  business  awaited  him.  Mrs.  Wyverne  pressed  him  to 
remain  for  that  one  night,  and  he  consented  to  do  so. 

The  wedding  so  long  talked  of  was  to  take  place  in  the 
following  week.  All  preparations  and  arrangements  had 
been  made  for  the  reception  of  the  young  ladies  who  were 
to  officiate  as  bride-maids,  and  the  brilliant  company  of 
guests  invited  for  the  occasion. 

Lisle  Court  was  in  a ferment.  French  cooks,  direct 
from  Paris,  had  been  engaged  for  the  occasion;  the  whole 
country-side  was  aroused  and  interested,  and  people  talked 
of  nothing  else. 

“ We  shall  have  one  quiet  evening/5  said  Daisy,  after 
dinner,  “ and  even  that  we  ought  to  be  properly  grateful 
for.  I am  overwhelmed  when  I think  of  all  the  smiling 
and  talking  that  lies  before  us. 55 

It  might  have  been  a happy  evening  but  for  the  white, 
wearied  face  of  Eita.  Lord  Lisle  looked  at  her  in  amaze. 
When  she  spoke  he  detected  a ring  of  pain  in  her  voice 
that  astonished  him.  He  saw  her  lips  quiver  when  she 
tried  to  smile,  and  her  hands  clasped  tightly  when  the  fut- 
ure, or  her  marriage,  was  alluded  to. 

She  did  not  look  like  the  happy  bride  whose  every  wish 
was  gratified.  Pale  and  sad,  with  a deep  shadow  in  her 
dark  eyes,  what  had  come  over  her?  Lord  Lisle  was  both 
grieved  and  anxious. 

Eita  had  gone  to  the  large  window  that  looked  into  the 
pretty  pleasure  garden.  A large  fountain  played  in  the 
midst  of  blooming  flowers.  Blossoms  of  every  hue  and 
shade  were  there.  The  western  sunbeams  lingered  over 
them.  She  watched  the  bees  and  butterflies  roaming  from 
leaf  to  leaf;  she  watched  the  tall  trees  bending  their  state- 
ly heads  in  the  evening  breeze;  she  watched  the  smiling 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  165 

heavens,  the  rippling  waters,  and  the  setting  sun  with  de- 
spair more  bitter  than  death  in  her  heart. 

“ Next  week,”  she  thought,  44  all  this  would  be  mine — 
but  for  him!” 

She  clinched  her  white  fingers  at  the  words  44  but  for 
him.”  If  he  were  but  dead — no  matter  how  he  died,  pro- 
Tided  that  she  was  free! 

She  started,  uttering  a low  cry,  when  Lord  Lisle  sud- 
denly stood  by  her  side  and  spoke  to  her. 

44  It  is  a beautiful  evening,”  he  said.  64  Are  you  look- 
ing at  the  flowers,  Rita?  I must  tell  Jennings  you  admire 
them.  He  always  considers  this  especial  piece  of  ground 
his  chef  d’ oeuvre.  ” 

She  made  no  reply.  The  sense  of  his  words  had  not 
reached  her.  Through  the  tortured  heart  and  brain  one 
idea  ran.  She  must  give  her  answer  to-morrow.  What 
should  that  answer  be? 

44  Rita,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  gently,  44  despite  your  feverish 
attempts  at  gayety,  you  seem  very  unhappy.  What  is  it? 
Have  you  any  trouble?  If  so,  share  it  with  me.  Let 
there  be  no  secret  between  us.  If  you  have  any  sorrow  or 
trial,  tell  it  to  me.  You  know  l am  your  best  friend.” 

He  looked  so  noble,  so  strong  and  true,  that  she  longed 
to  kneel  at  his  feet  and  tell  him  all.  Better  to  meet  judg- 
ment from  him  than  from  Ralph  Ashton.  The  impulse 
was  strong  upon  her,  but  she  resisted  it,  resolving  to  fight 
to  the  very  last,  and  in  that  resolve  sealing  her  own  fate. 

44  Is  there  anything/’  continued  Lord  Lisle,  gravely, 
44  in  the  arrangements  made  that  does  not  please  you? 
Have  you  any  wish  ungratified?  — any  desire  unful- 
filled?” 

44  None,”  she  replied,  drearily  44  If  I complain  of  any- 
thing, it  would  surely  be  too  much  kindness.” 

44  Then  you  are  low-spirited  and  depressed,”  said  Philip, 
taking  her  hand.  44  Ah,  Rita,  you  have  no  faith.  Your 
future  is  not  an  unknown  land,  but  a sunny,  smiling  path, 


166 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


. 


I can  see  no  trouble  for  you;  you  only  want  rousing  and 
cheering. ” 

Something  like  a low  moan  came  from  her  lips.  He 
bent  over  and  kissed  her  sad  face  more  lovingly  than  he 
had  ever  done  before.  In  after  years  he  was  pleased  to 
remember  that.  He  never  forgot  the '-anguish  in  her  feat- 
ures as  she  laid  her  head  passively  against  his  shoulder. 

44  If  I might  only  die  now!”  she  murmured,  and  he  saw 
that  her  dark  eyes  were  wet  with  tears. 

44  Death  and  you  will  be  strangers  for  many  long  years, 
1 hope,”  he  said,  believing  she  was  depressed  and  ill. 

But  he  could  not  cheer  her.  She  talked  to  him;  there 
was  no  music  in  her  voice.  How  could  she  either  smile  or 
forget,  when  she  knew  that  Ralph  Ashton  was  keeping  his 
stern  watch  near  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  that  early  to- 
morrow morning  she  must  give  her  answer? 

She  endured  it  until  she  could  bear  no  more;  her  energy 
seemed  to  fail,  her  strength  gave  way.  The  hands  Lord 
Lisle  held  in  his  own  were  cold  as  marble. 

64 1 am  very  tired,”  she  said.  44 1 must  ask  you  to  ex- 
cuse me.  It  is  your  last  night  here.  I am  sorry  to  leave 
you  so  early.” 

44 1 can  only  hope  rest  may  restore  you,”  said  Lord 
Lisle.  44  If  you  feel  better  in  the  morning,  let  me  see  you 
before  I go.” 

How  little  he  thought,  as  he  looked  on  her  beautiful  face 
for  the  last  time,  what  the  morning  s.un  would  see! 

Mrs.  Wyverne  would  go  with  Rita.  Daisy  was  left  alone 
with  Lord  Lisle. 

He  was  troubled  and  unhappy  for  some  time  past.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  something  more  than  ill-health  affected 
Rita.  In  vain  he  tried  to  think  what  it  could  be.  He  had 
anticipated  her  delight  and  admiration  at  the  changes  and 
improvements  that  had  taken  place;  her  pleasure  at  the 
numerous  and  costly  preparations  made  in  her  honor;  but 
she  had  looked  indifferently  upon  them  all,  and  seemed  to 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER.  16? 

avoid  the  subject.  She  looked  like  anything  but  a happy 
bride. 

44  Daisy/5  said  Lord  Lisle,  suddenly,  66  you  will  soon 
be  my  sister  as  well  as  Rita’s.  Do  you  know,  I am  very 
anxious  over  her?  1 never  saw  any  one  so  changed.  She 
used  to  be  all  animation.  Now  she  looks  as  though  life 
held  no  interest  for  her.  Have  you  remarked  it?” 

44  Yes,”  said  Daisy.  44  Mrs.  Wyverne  was  speaking  to 
me  about  her  last  evening.  It  must  be  the  reaction  after 
all  our  gayety  in  London.” 

44 1 wish  I could  think  so,”  said  Philip.  44  It  appears 
to  me  that  some  secret  weighs  heavily  upon  her  mind.  No 
physical  illness  could  have  changed  her  so.  Has  she  any 
secrets,  Daisy?  I am  soon  to  be  her  husband;  I ought  to 
know  them.” 

44  What  secret  can  she  have?”  asked  Daisy,  startled  by 
his  earnest  manner.  44 1 know  of  none.  I know  of  noth- 
ing that  can  trouble  her.  Lord  Lisle.” 

44 1 am  quite  puzzled  by  her  manner,”  he  continued. 
44  Why  is  she  so  silent,  so  abstracted,  so  unlike  herself  this 
evening?  There  is  some  mystery  in  it.” 

He  little  dreamed  how  soon  and  how  tragically  his  ques- 
tion was  to  be  answered  and  the  mystery  solved. 

Daisy  tried  to  soothe  him — to  make  him  forget  both  irri- 
tation and  anxiety,  but  thoughts  that  he  could  not  put  into 
words  haunted  Lord  Lisle. 

44 1 will  see  her  in  the  morning,”  he  said,  44  before  I go, 
and  persuade  her  to  trust  in  me.  She  was  intrusted  to 
me,  and  I must  take  care  of  her.” 

Mrs.  Wyverne  thought  she  was  doing  a kind,  motherly 
action  in  going  with  Rita  to  her  room.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  imperative  need  for  rest  and  thought.  It  seemed  to 
Rita  that  she  should  never  be  alone.  Mrs.  Wyverne  would 
talk  about  her  wedding;  about  the  long  train  of  bride- 
maids,  comprising  some  of  the  fairest  and  noblest  girls  in 
England;  of  the  grand  ceremonial^  and  the  brilliant  com- 


168 


LORD  LISLE’S  DATJ Gif  TEE. 


pany — all  this  while  Ralph  Ashton  stood  outsid*  the  walk 
keeping  watch  upon  her. 

She  talked  until  the  unhappy  girl  grew  desperate.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  .must  cry  aloud.  Mrs,  Wyverne 
noticed  the  white,  quivering  face. 

“I  will  leave  you  now,  Rita/’ she  said,  gently.  “I 
am  talking  too  much.” 

In  after  years  she  was  pleased  to  remember  how  she  had 
turned  back  and  kissed  the  young  face  so  white  and  worn. 

Daisy,  too,  could  not  rest  until  she  had  been  in  to  see 
her  sister.  She  threw  her  arms  round  her.  The  last 
words  Rita  ever  heard  from  her  roseate  lips  were  a bless- 
ing and  a heartfelt  prayer. 

She  was  alone  at  last,  and  had  time  to  think  what  her 
answer  should  be. 

. Did  ever  hatred  and  love  fight  again  as  they  fought  that 
night  in  her  heart?  Did  ever  the  pure  stars  shine  down 
upon  one  so  wretched?  Look  where  she  would  there  was 
no  hope.  She  was  hemmed  in  with  toils  of  her  own  mak- 
ing, caught  in  the  fatal  web  she  had  woven  round  herself. 
If  she  refused  Ralph  Ashton  and  made  him  desperate,  he 
would  go  straight  to  Lord  Lisle  and  tell  him  all.  She 
knew  that  he  could  easily  prove  the  truth  of  his  story. 
Daisy’s  likeness  to  the  Lady  Sybella  Lisle  was  one  proof  in 
itself. 

What  would  happen  then?  Even  if  she  were  spared  the 
prison-cell,  she  would  lose  everything — name,  position, 
rank,  wealth,  and  Philip.  She,  who  had  reigned  a haughty 
and  brilliant  queen,  would  be  driven  forth  from  the  luxu- 
rious home  that  sheltered  her  a penniless  outcast,  mocked, 
scorned,  despised,  and  insulted  by  those  who  had  flattered 
her — she  at  whose  feet  the  noblest  in  the  land  had  offered 
their  homage. 

She  could  never  live  and  bear  it;  she  could  never  endure 
the  loss  of  all  she  had  sinned  so  deeply  to  win. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  could  she  renounce  Philip  and 


'H)RD  LISLES  DAUGHTER. 


169 


marry  Ralph?  Whav  excuse  could  she  offer  for  such  a 
breach  of  faith?  The  world  she  had  loved  and  served  so 
well  would  disown  her.  With  every  preparation  made — 
with  guests  invited,  and  the  whole  ceremony  arranged, 
jfiow  could  she  break  off  her  engagement?  Certainly  not 
Tinder  the  pretext  of  “ an  old  lover  returned  from  sea.” 
How  could  she  present  Ralph  Ashton  to  a gentle,  refined 
lady  like  Mrs.  Wyverne?  No  one  would  tolerate  him. 

True,  if  she  did  so  and  married  him,  she  would  still 
have  wealth;  the  fortune  Lord  Lisle  left  her  was  consider- 
able; hut  it  would  be  worse  than  useless — it  would  be  poi- 
soned 6y  the  continual  presence  of  Ralph  Ashton. 

She  would  never  do  it.  She  could  never,  after  the  train- 
ing of  these  few  years,  associate  with  one  like  Ralph  Ash- 
ton. Ntwer  again!  Life  with  him  would  be  living  death. 

No!  fate  must  do  its  worst.  She  hated  him  with  a 
deadly,  rancorous  hatred.  She  would  rather  suffer  any- 
thing, she  would  rather  die  any  death  than  marry  him. 
He  should  uot  trample  upon  her  ruined  hopes  and  pros- 
pects. From  the  wreck  of  her  life  he  should  not  rise 
rich  and  prosperous.  Let  him  do  his  worst,  she  would  not 
marry  him. 

The  pale  glimmer  of  the  stars  had  died  away,  and  the 
gray  morning  light  came  into  her  room  before  she  had 
made  her  final  resolve.  It  was  made  at  last;  her  answer 
was  ready.  She  looked  at  her  watch;  it  was  then  nearly 
four.  She  was  to  meet  Ralph  at  seven.  There  was  some 
little  time  to  rest. 

A solemn  hush  «nd  silence  fell  over  her.  Her  answer 
was  ready,  and  she  could  not  foresee  what  it  would  cost 
her. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

Surely  the  most  solemn  sleep  of  all  is  the  sleep  of  the 
condemned  man  j ust  before  death.  The  deep  repose  that 


tORD  LXSLE^S  DAUGHTER. 


m 

fell  upon  the  unhappy  girl  was  not  more  dreamless  or  still. 
There  was  no  more  torture  of  indecision;  her  answer  was 
ready. 

She  slept  until  the  August  sun  shone  full  and  warm 
upon  her  face.  Perhaps  the  most  painful  moment  of  her 
life  was  that  in  which  she  woke.  The  first  rush  of  mem- 
ory smote  her  like  a sharp  sword.  She  remembered  all — 
why  she  had  slept,  where  she  was  going,  and  what  the  day 
would  bring  forth. 

It  wanted  but  a few  minutes  to  seven,  and  she  dared  not 
delay,  lest,  not  meeting  her,  Ealph  should  come  to  the 
house,  and  an  exposure  take  place  before  all  the  servants. 

She  still  wore  the  rich  dinner-dress  and  costly  jewels 
that  she  had  put  on  to  please  Lord  Lisle.  She  did  not 
stay  to  remove  them.  A dark  cloak  flung  over  her  shoul- 
ders hid  them  from  view. 

What  was  it  caused  her  to  stand  for  a few  minutes  at 
the  door  of  her  room,  and  look  back  upon  its  luxrious 
quiet  as  upon  a lost  home?  No  thought  came  to  her  of 
the  next  sleep  she  would  take  upon  the  pretty  white  bed. 

Gently  and  noiselessly  she  went  out  into  the  parlor. 
None  of  the  servants  observed  her;  no  one  yaw  her  leave 
the  house,  or  knew  at  what  hour  she  had  done  so. 

The  morning  was  sweet  and  calm;  dew-drops  still  glit- 
tered upon  the  tall  trees  and  the  fragrant  blossoms.  The 
birds  were  all  awake,  singing  of  the  quiet  summer  beauty 
around  them.  From  the  depths  of  the  wood  came  the 
music  of  rustling  leaves  and  the  singing  brook.  The  flow- 
ers, had  raised  their  bright  heads.  Nature  is  never  so  fair, 
so  smiling,  so  gracious  as  in  the  early  hours  of  the  day. 

The  beauty  of  earth  and  sky  brought  no  gladness  to  her; 
the  sweet,  fresh  summer  wind  raised  no  cole*  on  her.  feat- 
ures. The  flowers  bloomed  and  the  birds  song  in  vain  for 
her. 

She  saw  Ealph  Ashton  standing  at  the  stile  that  led  into 


LORD  LISLES  DAUGHTER.  171 

the  woods.  He  smiled  at  the  shudder  of  hate  that  she 
could  not  repress. 

64  True  to  your  time,  Rita,”  he  said.  “ But  you  always 
were.  If  1 remember  rightly,  you  were  often  at  the  tryst- 
ing-place  before  me.  ” 

She  did  not  speak;  she  had  resolved  to  hear  all  he  had 
to  say  in  silence.  She  would  give  her  answer  and  take  her 
chance.  Never  again  would  she  kneel  at  his  feet  or  ask 
for  his  mercy.  The  beautiful  white  face  was  cold  and 
hard. 

“ Let  us  go  into  the  wood,”  said  Ralph.  “ I mean  to 
have  things  settled  this  morning.  If  we  remain  here, 
some  of  those  prying  servants  may  see  us,  and  interrupt 
what  promises  to  be  a very  pleasant  scene.” 

She  followed  him  into  the  wood-path,  where  the  tall 
trees  met  overhead,  and  shut  out  the  smiling,  merciful 
heaven.  The  tall,  green  grass  was  wet  with  dew;  pretty 
wild  flowers  grew  side  by  side  with  rare  fern  leaves.  The 
wind  made  solemn  music  among  the  leafy  branches. 

As  she  looked  her  last  upon  the  summer  skies,  and  went 
into  the  deep  shade  of  the  woods,  the  unhappy  girl  shiv- 
ered as  one  seized  with  mortal  cold. 

“ Not  so  warm  here  as  in  one  of  my  Lord  Lisle’s  hot- 
houses,” he  said,  with  a coarse  laugh.  “Now,  Rita,  let 
us  have  no  tragedy  airs.  I am  come  for  my  answer,  and  I 
mean  to  have  it.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  Will  you  be 
my  wife?” 

“No!”  she  said,  in  clear,  steady  tones.  “I  have 
thought  well.  I would  rather  suffer  any  disgrace,  any 
shame,  any  torture,  any  death  than  be  your  wife!  I have 
sinned,  and  I must  suffer.  I thought  to  escape — to  pros- 
per in  my  evil  deed— but  a Mighty  Hand  has  overtaken 
me.  Do  as  you  will:  expose  me,  betray  me,  degrade  me, 
rob  me  of  all  I value  and  love,  I am  still  spared  the  great- 
est degradation  of  all — that  of  becoming  jour  wife!” 

His  face  grew  livid  with  passion.  Had  she  seen  the  fury 


172  LOUD  LISLE^S  DAUGHTER. 

that  flamed  from  bis  eyes  she  would  have  fled  for  her  life, 
but  her  face  was  turned  from  him. 

“ That  is  your  answer?”  he  said,  in  a low,  hissing  voice. 
“ It  is  my  final  decision,”  she  said.  44  Do  as  you  will.” 
44  You  know  that  I shall  go  straight  to  Lord  Lisle,  and 
tell  him  how  vile  a traitress  he  has  asked  to  be  his  wife; 
that  before  sunset  you  will  be  thrust  with  ignominy  and 
disdain  from  a home  to  which  you  have  never  had  the 
slightest  right!” 

44 1 have  a right,”  she  said,  46  that  you  have  overlooked. 
Even  supposing  you  carry  out  your  scheme  of  vengeance, 
I shall  but  change  places  with  my  foster-sister.  The  late 
Lord  Lisle  intended  to  befriend  Susan  Rivers’  child  even 
as  she  had  befriended  his  daughter.  You  will  disgrace  and 
degrade  me — your  power  stops  there.” 

The  fury  in  his  face  would  have  alarmed  her,  but  she 
never  saw  it. 

44  Ralph,”  she  said,  44  in  yonder  house  everything  is  pre- 
pared for  my  wedding.  I love  rank  and  luxury;  I love 
Lord  Lisle.  Make  a compact  with  me.  Leave  me  in 
peace — leave  me  to  take  my  own  path,  and  you  take  yours. 
1 will  make  you  a rich  man — rich  beyond  your  wildest 
dreams.  You  gain  nothing  by  disgracing  me.” 

44  Yes,”  he  replied,  angrily,  44 1 gain  my  revenge.” 

44  You  refuse,  then?”  she  asked. 

44 1 refuse.  I have  sworn  and  you  have  sworn  that  you 
will  be  my  wife.  That  vow  shall  be  kept!” 

44  Never!”  she  said,  calmly.  44 1 prefer  death.  1 have 
sinned  myself,  but  1 could  never  stoop  so  low  as  to  marry 
the  man  who  could  trade  upon  a woman’s  secret.  Do  your 
worst;  you  can  not  hurt  me  much.  I will  go  with  you, 
and  look  Lord  Lisle  in  the  face  while  you  tell  your  story. 
I am  no  coward.  When  all  is  done— when  your  worst 
vengeance  is  wreaked  unon  me — I am  the  victor — not 
you.” 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  173 

She  was  frightened  then,  for  he  seized  her  arm  with  a 
cruel,  hard  grasp. 

“ No/*  he  said,  “you  shall  never  conquer — 1 will  kill 
you  first.  ” 

She  looked  in  the  fierce,  angry  face  bent  over  her. 

“ Ralph!”  she  said,  “ you  can  not  mean  it?” 

As  she  stood  there  alone  in  the  silent  depths  of  the 
woods  with  that  fierce,  wild  man.  Captain  Darcy^s  words 
flashed  across  her:  “ If  ever  you  want  a friend  with  a true 
heart  and  a strong  arm,  remember  me.” 

Ah!  if  he  could  but  come  to  save  her  now! 

“ I do  mean  it!”  he  said.  “If  1 am  mad,  you  have 
made  me  so!  You  shall  not  leave  this  place  alive  unless 
you  promise  to  be  my  wife — to  go  away  with  me  now  and 
at  once!” 

The  hapless  girl  saw  something  shining  in  his  hands, 
and  turned  to  fly.  There  was  a rush — a struggle — a sharp, 
shrill  cry — a shot  fired — and  the  deed  was  done. 

The  sun  saw  it,  and  still  shone  on;  the  smiling  heavens 
did  not  grow  black  and  angry  at  the  ruthless  crime. 

Down  in  the  thick,  dew-laden  grass,  crushing  the  fra- 
grant flowers,  she  fell,  her  death-like  features  hidden  by  the 
fern  leaves.  There  had  been  no  time  to  repent — no  time 
to  ask  for  mercy — no  time  to  plead  for  pardon. 

He  stood  for  one  moment  stunned  by  his  own  act,  then 
he  knelt  by  her  side  and  called  her.  He  raised  the  white 
face  from  the  ground  and  saw  death  there. 

“ 1 did  not  mean  it,”  he  gasped — “ I did  not  mean  it! 
You  drove  me  mad,  Rita!” 

Down  again  fell  the  dead  face,  and  he  turned,  with  a 
cry  that  rang  through  the  silent  woods — rang  up  to  the 
high  heavens.  He  turned  and  fled. 

Blind  with  mad  fury,  glutted  revenge,  and  wounded, 
outraged  love,  the  air  like  a red-hot  mist  around  him,  he 
fled  from  the  sight  of  the  dead  features  that  were  to  haunt 
him  until  his  last  hour. 


174 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


The  birds,  scared  for  a time  by  the  shot,  resumed  their 
song;  the  sunbeams  began  to  pierce  the  dense  foliage  and 
glisten  in  the  dew-drops;  the  little  brook  murmured  its 
own  story;  the  flowers  gave  forth  fresh  fragrance,  all  heed- 
less of  the  crushed  heap  of  shining  silk  and  gleaming  jewels 
— all  heedless  of  the  hair  stirred  by  the  summer  wind  or  of 
the  white  face  hidden  by  the  fern  leaves. 

The  breakfast-bell  rang  in  Lisle  Court.  Daisy  was  the 
first  to  descend.  Lord  Lisle  and  Mrs.  Wyverne  soon 
joined  her. 

Philip’s  first  question  was: 

44  Where  is  Rita?” 

44  She  will  be  down  soon,  without  doubt,”  said  Mrs. 
Wyverne.  46 1 have  not  heard  how  she  is.  ” 

44  She  promised  to  see  me  before  I went' away,”  said 
Lord  Lisle.  46 1 must  go  at  eleven — it  is  nearly  ten  now. 
We  are  all  late  this  morning.” 

No  Rita  came,  and  Mrs.  Wyverne  sent  one  of  the  foot- 
men to  summon  Therese. 

The  maid  came  in,  bowing  profoundly  to  Lord  Lisle. 

44  How  is  Miss  Lisle  this  morning?”  asked  Mrs.  Wy- 
verne. 

44  My  lady  has  not  rung  yet,”  replied  the  maid.  44  She 
wished  me  last  night  not  to  disturb  her  until  she  rang.” 

44 1 will  go,”  said  Daisy.  44 1 will  remind  her  that  Lord 
Lisle  goes  at  eleven.  Do  not  wait  breakfast  for  me;  I 
shall  stay  with  Rita.” 

Daisy  was  absent  ten  minutes  or  more.  She  returned 
looking  pale  and  startled. 

44  Rita  has  gone  out,”  she  said,  slowly. 

Lord  Lisle  looked  relieved. 

44  She  is  all  right,  then,  I suppose,”  he  said,  44  and  has 
gone  for  a pleastat  early  morning  walk.” 

44  It  seems  strange,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne.  44  Why  did 
she  not  ring  for  Therese?” 

At  that  moment  she  caught  sight  of  the  maid’s  scared 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  175 

look  as  she  stood  at  the  door.  A sudden  presentiment  of 
some  great  trouble  seized  her. 

“ What  is  it,  Daisy?”  she  asked,  starting  from  her  seat. 

Daisy  went  up  and  threw  one  arm  round  her. 

“Do  not  be  frightened,”  she  said.  “ Therese  is 
alarmed.  Eita  has  gone  out;  but  the  strangest  thing  is, 
her  bed  has  not  been  slept  in,  and  the  things  laid  ready  for 
her  to  put  on  have  never  been  touched.” 

Therese  came  in. 

“ I can  not  understand  it,  madame,”  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Wy verne.  “ My  lady  has  not  even  taken  off  her  jewels  or 
her  dinner-dress — 1 can  not  find  them.” 

Mrs.  Wy  verne  turned  to  Lord  Lisle. 

“ Philip,  my  dear,”  she  said,  “ what  is  it?  See  what  it 
means.” 

“It  means  nothing,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  gently.  “Eita 
has  in  all  probability  gone  out.  She  is  somewhere  in  the 
gardens  or  in  the  grounds — perhaps  even  somewhere  in  the 
house.  Daisy  and  I will  look  for  her.  Therese,  stay  with 
Mrs.  Wy  verne.  Not  one  word  of  this  nonsense  before  the 
servants,  mind!” 

“ Tell  her  how  she  has  frightened  me,”  said  the  elder 
lady,  in  a trembling  voice.  “ Bring  her  here  quickly.” 

They  went  to  the  drawing-room — the  library — the  state- 
rooms—they  searched  the  whole  house,  but  there  was  no 
sign  of  Eita.  Daisy  grew  frightened. 

“ It  is  all  nonsense!”  said  Lord  Lisle.  “ She  is  out  in 
the  grounds.” 

He  called  Drayton  and  Manners,  two  of  the  footmen, 
and  told  them  “ Miss  Lisle  was  in  the  grounds.  Would 
they  go  and  tell  her  the  breakfast-bell  had  rung?” 

The  men  went  on  their  errand.  Lord  Lisle  stood  by 
the  library  window.  Neither  Daisy  nor  he  spoke  one 
word. 

The  men  were  absent  nearly  half  an  hour.  Neither  on© 
nor  the  other  had  been  able  to  discover  Miss  Lisle. 


176 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Then,  for  the  first  time,  Lord  Lisle  felt  alarmed. 

* “Go  and  tell  Mrs.  Wyverne,  Daisy,”  he  said.  4 4 Ask 
her  to  come  up  into  Rita’s  room.” 

They  all  stood  there,  helpless  and  uncertain  what  to  do. 
Nothing  seemed  out  of  place.  There  was  no  disarray  of 
jewels  or  dress;  the  pretty  white  morning  wrapper,  with 
its  crimson  ribbons,  lay  untouched  upon  the  chair. 

46  She  has  not  slept  here,”  said  Mrs.  Wyverne;  44  that  is 
certain.  Philip,  what  has  become  of  my  child?” 

44  We  will  soon  know,”  he  replied. 

The  great  bell  in  the  hall  was  rung,  the  men-servants 
all  assembled,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  they  were  dis- 
persed over  the  grounds,  searching  for  one  they  would 
never  find  in  life  again. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

44  Are  you  going  with  the  men?”  asked  Daisy  of  Lord 
Lisle. 

44  Yes,”  he  replied.  44  There  is  no  journey  to  London 
for  me  this  morning.  I shall  do  nothing  until  we  have 
solved  this  mystery.  It  may  be  all  right,  but  1 begin  to 
feel  doubtful.  Go  to  Mrs.  Wyverne,  Daisy,  and  do  not 
leave  her.  There  was  a secret,  after  all,  you  see,  and 
something  tells  me  that  we  shall  discover  it.” 

She  saw  his  pale,  stern  face,  and  pitied  him.  Even 
should  all  come  right,  it  was  not  pleasant  to  have  had  all 
this  fright  and  disturbance  over  the  woman  he  was  to 
marry. 

Daisy  went  back  to  the  breakfast-room.  The  whole 
house  was  in  commotion.  The  rumor  of  Miss  Lisle’s  dis- 
appearance had  spread  among  the  servants,  and  they  were 
all  in  confusion.  Mrs.  Wyverne  was  lying  back,  pale  and 
faint,  upon  the  sofa. 

44  Daisy,”  she  said,  in  a trembling  voice,  44  tell  me  the 


LORD  lisle’s  daughter.  177 

worst  quickly.  This  suspense  is  killing  me.  Thank 
Heaven,  my  dear  son  did  not  live  to  see  this  day.” 

“ The  worst  is,  that  Kita  is  missing,”  the  young  girl 
said,  gently.  44  Lord  Lisle  and  the  men-servants  are  gone 
in  search  of  her.  All  may  yet  be  well.” 

“ Nay,”  interrupted  the  poor  lady,  44  my  heart  tells  me 
differently.  Oh,  Daisy!  if  Philip’s  surmise  be  right — if 
there  be  any  secret  or  mystery,  what  shall  we  do?  She 
has  been  so  strange  lately — so  unlike  herself.” 

Daisy  took  the  trembling  hands  in  her  own.  She 
soothed  and  comforted  the  grieving,  sorrowful  lady  as  no 
one  else  could  have  done. 

44  Whatever  it  is,  we  must  bear  it,”  she  said. 

So  the  long,  sunny  hours  of  that  morning  passed,  and 
there  came  no  news  of  the  beloved  one  lost  forever. 

Lord  Lisle  followed  the  men  into  the  park.  He  was  be- 
wildered. They  turned  to  him  for  directions,  and  he  knew 
not  what  to  say.  The  sun  shone  so  brightly,  the  flowers 
bloomed,  the  birds  sung — everything  was  bright  and  gay. 
What  shadow  of  sorrow  or  wrong  could  fall  that  beautiful 
morning?  There  was  not  a cloud  on  the  smiling  summer 
sky — not  a sign  in  the  clear,  perfumed  breeze. 

44  Where  shall  we  go,  my  lord?”  asked  one  of  the  men. 
44  Perhaps  the  young  lady  has  met  with  an  accident  while 
Walking  in  the  park.  Shall  we  go  there  first?” 

But  even  as  he  stood  giving  his  directions,  he  saw  three 
of  the  servants  running  from  the  stile  that  led  into  the 
woods,  white  and  breathless,  calling  loudly  for  help. 

He  went  to  meet  them.  Jennings,  the  footman  who 
usually  waited  upon  Miss  Lisle,  came  first. 

44  My  lord,”  he  said,  44 1 am  afraid  there  is  something 
wrong  in  the  woods.  Something  is  lying  there  we  dare  not 
touch.  Will  you  come?” 

They  went  all  together,  leaving  the  bright,  warm  sun* 
shine,  and  going  into  the  cool,  deep  shade  of  the  woods. 
The  birds  were  singing  in  the  hearts  of  the  tall  treea 


178 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


Something— a confused  mass  of  shining  silk— lay  in  the 
long,*thick  grass.  The  wind  played  with  a mass  of  black, 
rippling  hair. 

They  drew  near  with  hushed  breath.  One  round,  white 
arm,  clasped  by  a diamond  bracelet,  lay  still  and  cold  on 
the  silken  robes.  Lord  Lisle  knew  what  lay  there  when 
he  saw  that. 

i The  men  drew  back  as  he  went  to  the  quiet  figure.  He 
parted  the  mass  of  fern  leaves,  and  raised  the  face,  beauti- 
ful and  still  in  death. 

There  was  a loud  cry  of  grief  and  horror;  but  he  knelt 
in  silence,  lifting  the  prostrate  figure,  and  raising  the  head. 

As  he  did  so,  he  caught  sight  of  the  fatal  pistol. 

“ Oh,  dreadful  deed!"  he  cried.  “ She  has  been  mur- 
dered— shot!  Who  can  have  done  this?  Run,  Jennings, 
Martin!  Get  out  the  swiftest  horses!  Fly  for  your  lives! 
Fetch  the  nearest  doctor,  and  telegraph  for  more!" 

44  It  is  all  useless,  my  lord,"  said  the  butler.  “The 
poor  lady  has  been  dead  for  hours — shot  through  the 
heart." 

He  saw  it  was  all  in  vain.  A deep  sob  broke  from  his 
lips  as  he  tenderly  covered  the  white  face.  He  did  not 
think  how  she  came  by  her  death.  He  only  felt  the 
bright,  beautiful  girl,  who  loved  him  so  dearly  — who 
was  soon  to  be  his  wife — lay  before  him  dead. 

The  men  went  back  for  awhile;  they  would  not  intrude 
upon  their  young  lord's  sorrow.  The  pitiful  sight  hidden 
by  the  fern  leaves  brought  tears  into  many  eyes. 

They  made  a rude  litter  of  twisted  branches,  and  then 
Lord  Lisle,  rising  from  the  dead  girl's  side,  turned  to 
them. 

46  My  men,"  he  said,  “ we  will  carry  her  home — back 
to  the  house  where,  in  a few  days'  time,  she  was  to  have 
been  married — where  all  her  bridal  splendor  awaits  her; 
then  we  will  hunt  the  world  through  to  find  the  one  who 
did  the  deed," 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


179 


There  was  a murmur  of  hate  and  execration.  The  mur- 
derer would  have  fared  badly  had  he  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  those  angry  men.  They  then  gently  raised  the  silent 
figure  and  laid  it  on*  the  litter,  while  kindly  hands  folded 
the  silken  robes  around  her. 

Surely  the  summer  sun  never  shone  upon  so  sad  a sight. 
The  bright  beauty  of  all  around  seemed  a cruel  mockery. 
They  went  through  the  park,  where  she  never  more  would 
tread,  and  carried  their  sorrowful  burden  to  the  Hall. 

“Be  cautious,”  said  Lord  Lisle.  “Do  not  let  the 
ladies  know.” 

In  silence  they  carried  her  up  the  broad  marble  staircase 
decorated  for  her  wedding,  into  the  room  she  had  that 
morning  left.  In  silence  and  tears  they  laid  her  upon  the 
bed  where  so  lately  her  wearied  head  had  lain.  They  left 
some  to  watch  in  the  darkened  room,  and  then  Lord  Lisle 
went  down  to  seek  those  who  waited  for  him  so  anxiously. 

Mrs.  Wy verne  started  up  at  his  entrance. 

“ Philip,”  she  cried,  “ have  you  found  her?” 

“ Yes,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  sorrowfully;  “we  have  found 
her.” 

“ Where,  and  how?”  she  asked. 

But  when  he  sat  down  by  her  side,  and  tried  to  tell  her, 
his  courage  and  strength  gave  way.  Lord  Lisle  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  wept  aloud. 

He  told  them  at  last,  holding  their  hands  in  his,  and 
begging  them,  for  Heaven’s  sake,  to  bear  it  well.  Daisy’s 
scream  of  horror  rang  in  his  ear  for  days  afterward.  Mrs. 
Wyverne  looked  as  though  she  would  die  from  the  shock. 

“ Who  can  have  done  it?”  cried  Daisy,  beside  herself 
with  grief.  “ My  sister  had  no  enemy;  she  never  did  any 
one  wrong  or  harm.” 

“ She  had  a secret  in  her  life,”  said  Lord  Lisle— “ some 
secret  that  has  cost  her  dear.  Paul,  the  head  gardener, 
who  has  just  returned  from  Thornton,  tells  me  he  saw 
Miss  Lisle  cross  the  park  this  morning  with  a tall,  dark 


180 


lorl  Bible's  daeghter. 


man.  He  paid  no  particular  attention  to  him,  believing 
him  to  be  a visitor.  Eely  upon  it,  that  man  is  her  mur- 
derer. Who  was  he,  Daisy,  and  what  had  he  to  do  with 
your  sister,  who  was  to  have  been  my  wife?” 

They  went  up  to  the  room  where  weeping  attendants 
watched  their  dead  lady.  We  leave  them  there — grief  is 
sacred,  and  their  sorrow  was  no  light  one. 

Lord  Lisle  took  no  rest;  the  whole  country-side  was 
roused  to  search  for  the  perpetrator  of  the  dark  deed;  the 
news  ran  like  wildfire,  and  created  a sensation  that  was 
never  equaled. 

“ The  beautiful  Miss  Lisle,  who  was  to  have  been  mar- 
ried next  week,  had  been  found  dead,  shot  through  the 
heart.” 

Lord  Lisle  telegraphed  to  London  for  the  first  detectives 
in  the  city  to  be  sent  down  at  once.  They  came;  the 
neighboring  gentry  all  joined  in  the  search;  a reward  of 
two  thousand  pounds  was  offered  by  Lord  Lisle;  govern- 
ment offered  two  hundred  more;  but  all  seemed  vain. 
There  was  no  clew,  no  trace,  no  sign  of  the  assassin. 

A few  days  passed  in  mourning  and  gloom  that  no  words 
can  describe.  An  inquest  was  held  at  the  Hall,  but  no 
evidence  could  be  procured  which  threw  any  light  upon  the 
most  mysterious  murder  of  modern  times.  The  pistol 
found  near  the  spot  bore  neither  mark  nor  name;  still,  the 
detectives  hoped  to  obtain  some  clew  from  it. 

All  England  rang  with  the  news.  People  who  had  seen 
Miss  Lisle  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  beauty,  could  hardly 
credit  the  fact.  Never  was  anything  so  sad;  young,  love- 
ly, wealthy,  about  to  be  married  to  a man  she  loved. 
Popular  indignation  was  aroused  as  it  had  seldom  been 
before. 

The  day  came  when  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  erring, 
unhappy  girl  was  hidden  forever  from  the  sight  of  men. 
With  all  her  grand  beauty,  her  glaring  faults,  Margaret 
Rivers  passed  away,  and  her  place  knew  her  no  more. 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


181 


There  never  was  a sight  to  equal  that  funeral  proces- 
sion; the  guests  invited  for  the  wedding  came  to  do  more 
honor  to  it.  The  bells  that  should  have  rung  out  a merry 
peal  for  her  marriage  tolled  for  her  death.  Those  who 
saw  it  will  never  forget  it.  They  will  never  forget  the 
aged  lady  whose  tears  and  sighs  moved  all  hearts;  the 
golden-haired  sister  whose  sweet  face  was,  perhaps,  the 
saddest  sight  of  all;  or  the  pale,  sorrow-stricken  mourner 
who  was  so  soon  to  have  been  the  husband  of  Margaret 
Eivers. 

They  laid  her  to  rest  in  the  old  family  vault  in  the 
pretty  green  church-yard  of  Thornton,  The  sun  shines 
over  her  grave,  flowers  bloom  near  it,  and  birds  sing  round 
it.  She,  with  all  her  faults  and  sins,  her  sorrows  and 
fears,  will  rest  well  until  all  earthly  rest  be  ended  in  this 
world. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  day  of  the  funeral.  The 
guests  had  all  departed;  the  confusion  was  all  over,  and  a 
somber  quiet  had  fallen  upon  Lisle  Court. 

Mrs.  Wy verne  sat  in  her  own  room;  Daisy  was  with 
her.  Although  the  day  was  warm  a fire  burned  in  the 
grate;  the  chill  of  sorrow  had  taken  possession  of  the  poor 
lady.  Daisy,  in  her  deep  mourning-dress  sat  by  her  side, 
trying  to  forget  her  own  sorrows  in  soothing  that  of  others. 

Lord  Lisle  was  alone  in  the  library^ wearied  and  exhaust- 
ed by  the  horror  and  misery  he  had  passed  through,  unable 
to  read,  to  write  or  to  do  anything,  save  think  of  the 
scenes  he  would  have  given  worlds  to  forget. 

It  was  not  yet  dark;  but  he  had  drawn  the  blinds,  ’ 
unable  to  endure  the  sight  of  the  summer  sun. 

The  butler  came  in  to  say  that  a man  requested  to  see 
his  lordship  on  very  important  business. 

“ I can  not  see  him  to-night,  Martin,"  said  Lord  Lisle, 
wearily;  “lam  tired  and  ill." 

“ So  I told  him,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply;  “ but  he  im- 
plored me  so  earnestly  to  ask  your  lordship  for  an  inter- 


m 


LOUD  LISLE^S  DAtGUTEk. 


view  1 could  not  refuse.  His  manner  is  so  strange,  my 
lord,  I can  not  help  thinking  he  has  something  of  vital 
importance  to  communicate.” 

“ What  kind  of  man  is  he?”  asked  Lord  Lisle. 

“ Tall  and  dark,  my  lord;  with  a strange,  wild  face — 
fierce  and  handsome.” 

As  the  man  said  the  words  there  suddenly  flashed  across 
Lord  Lisle  the  remembrance  of  the  man  whom  he  had  seen 
speaking  to  Rita  on  the  cliff  at  Suubay.  .Could  it  be  the 
same,  and  had  he  come  to  tell  the  secret  that  belonged  to 
her? 

‘‘Show  him  up,”  said  Lord  Lisle;  “and,  Martin,  see 
that  some  of  the  men  are  at  hand  to  answer  the  bell.” 

It  was  the  same — Lord  Lisle  knew  him  at  a glance — the 
same  man  who  had  rushed  past  him  that  day  on  the  cliff. 

The  butler  withdrew  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
Then  Lord  Lisle,  looking  in  the  man’s  face,  found  it 
white,  worn,  and  wild,  as  though  rest,  sleep,  and  peace 
were  strangers  to  him.  He  came  near  the  table,  and  Philip 
saw  that  his  hands  trembled  and  his  lips  quivered. 

“ Sit  down,”  said  Lord  Lisle,  kindly:  “ you  look  ill.” 

The  man  took  no  heed  of  his  words. 

“ My  lord,”  he  said,  suddenly,  “ my  name  is  Ralph 
Ashton.  The  girl  who  has  been  buried  to-day,  who  was 
to  have  been  your  wife  next  week^  was  my  promised  wife 
four  years  ago — bound  to  me  by  every  tie — bound  to  me 
by  love  so  passionate,  by  an  oath  so  solemn,  nothing  could 
break  it. 

“You  may  look  at  me,  my  lord;  but  my  words  are 
true;  she  was  mine,  and  I loved  her — ah,  what  words  can 
tell  how!  The  ground  whereon  she  stood  was  precious  to 
me;  I worshiped  her;  I was. her  slave.  She  said  she  loved 
me.  She  gave  me  sweet  kisses,  sweet  words,  and  loving 
looks.  When  I went  away  to  sea  she  swore  to  be  true 
until  I returned,  and  then  to  be  my  wife. 

“ When  1 returned  she  was  gone — she  had  tried  to  pro- 


LOUT)  LISTENS  DAUGHTER. 

rent  me  from  knowing  where.  I sought  her— found  her. 
She  flung  my  love  back  with  scornful  words;  she  roused 
all  the  pride  and  anger  in  me.  I was  a man;  she  turned 
me  into  a deviL” 

“ Why  tell  me  all  this?”  interrupted  Lord  Lisle.  5 Let 
the  poor  girl's  faults  be  buried  with  her.” 

“ You  must  hear  it!”  he  cried;  “it  concerns  you  most 
of  all.  I meant  to  keep  her  secret;  but,  it  seems  to  me,  if 
her  soul  is  to  rest  justice  must  be  done.” 

He  drew  a packet  of  papers  from  his  pocket. 

“ There,  my  lord,”  he  said;  44  look  at  these.  You  will 
find  from  them  that  the  girl  who  lies  in  Thornton  Church- 
yard duped  you  as  she  duped  me;  deceived  and  tricked 
you  as  she  did  me.  She  was  not  the  late  Lord  Lisle's 
daughter,  she  was  the  child  of  Susan  Rivers.  The  fair- 
haired girl  she  called  her  sister  is  Miss  Lisle.  Look  at 
these  papers  and  let  justice  be  done.” 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Too  bewildered  for  words.  Lord  Lisle  opened  the  packet 
before  him ; from  it  there  fell  a picture.  He  raised  it,  and 
saw  before  him  Daisy's  face;  the  sweet,  spiritual  face,  the 
tender  violet  eyes  and  golden  curls  of  a little  child.  He 
recognized  it  in  one  moment;  then  he  read  the  words  writ- 
ten in  Margaret  Wy verne's  hand. 

Like  one  in  a dream  he  opened  the  letters  and  read  the 
passages  where  the  young  mother  spoke  lovingly  of  her 
little  Daisy's  golden  curls.  Proof  was  heaped  upon  proof. 

4 4 The  strongest  proof  of  all,”  continued  Ralph  Ashton,  . 
in  the  same  constrained,  passionless  voice,  44  is  the  fact  of 
her  death.  She  never  denied  the  charge — never.  She 
told  me  she  would  rather  brave  the  disclosure  than  be  my 
wife.  If  you  want  further  evidence,  my  lord,  go  to  Deep- 
dale;  there  are  people  there  who  can  swear  that  this  is  the 
portrait  of  the  child  brought  by  the  strange  young  lady  to 


184  LOUD  lisle's  daughter. 

Susan  Rivers.  They  will  swear  that  the  dark-eyed,  dark- 
haired girl  called  Rita  was  Susan  Rivers’  own  child.” 

44  This  was  her  secret  then/’  murmured  Lord  Lisle j 
44  poor,  unhappy  girl!” 

44  That  was  her  secret,  my  lord,”  replied  the  man. 
64  That  you  may  be  sure  I am  not  slandering  the  dead,  1 
bring  you  the  letters  1 received  from  her  some  weeks  since 
in  London.  You  know  her  writing — read  these.  ” 

He  read  the  letters  composed  with  such  skillful  art. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  about-  them;  at  the  very  time  she 
was  his  promised  wife  she  had  corresponded  with  this  man. 

Lord  Lisle  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  stunned,  unable  to 
think  or  speak. 

44  She  always  loved  riches  and  grandeur,”  continued 
Ralph  Ashton.  44  She  was  very  beautiful,  and  she  longed 
for  dresses  and  jewels  to  set  off  her  beauty.  She  loved 
luxury  and  wealth.  I can  imagine  how  it  was  all  done, 
my  lord.  The  rightful  Miss  Lisle  was  away  from  home 
when  Susan  Rivers  came  to  die.  She  must  have  trusted 
the  secret  to  her  own  child,  who  used  it  for  her  own  pur- 
poses. Let  justice  be  done,  my  lord,”  he  continued. 
44  Let  the  true  Miss  Lisle  take  her  place.” 

44 1 will  place  the  whole  matter  in  the  hands  of  a skill- 
ful lawyer.  We  must  have  legal  as  well  as  moral  proof,” 
said  Lord  Lisle. 

44  So  be  it,”  replied  Ralph  Ashton.  44  If  inquiry  is 
made  there  is  no  fear.  Miss  Lisle  will  have  her  own.” 

As  Lord  Lisle  sat  listening  to  the  strange  voice,  details 
long  forgotten,  words  and  actions  he  had  thought  strange 
— all  rushed  up  through  his  mind;  each  one  corroborated 
the  story  he  had  heard.  All  that  seemed  a mystery  to 
him  was  clear  now. 

Ralph  Ashton  told  the  whole  story,  from  the  meeting 
with  Rita  until  that  morning  when  she  had  met  him  for 
the  last  time,  and  said  she  preferred  death  to  becoming  his 
wife. 


LORD  LISLE* S daughter.  IBS 

He  stopped  then,  and  his  lips,  dry  and  parched,  trem- 
bled convulsively. 

44  There  remains  but  one  thing  more,  my  lord,  to  be 
discussed,  and  that  is  the  murder.  They  tell  me  you 
have  clever  detectives  here  from  London.  Will  you  be 
pleased  to  let  me  see  one?” 

Lord  Lisle  rang  the  bell,  and  in  a few  minutes  Mr. 
Grey,  from  Scotland  Yard,  entered  the  room. 

Ealph  Ashton  stood  up  before  him. 

44  You  are  a police  officer?”  he  asked. 

44 1 am,”  replied  the  detective,  quietly. 

44 1 surrender  myself  to  you,”  he  said,  44  for  the  murder 
of  Margaret  Kivers!  I shot  her  through  the  heart!  I 
killed  her;  but  I swear  I never  meant  it.  She  insulted 
me,  maddened  me,  and  I fired!” 

A cry  of  rage  and  horror  came  from  Lord  Lisle.  He 
started  from  his  chair. 

44  Nay,  my  lord,”  said  the  detective,  interposing. 
44  Let  the  law  take  its  course.” 

44Ah!”  said  Ealph,  44  let  the  law  take  its  course,  my 
lord.  I am  not  worth  your  anger.  See,  my  hands  trem- 
ble, and  my  limbs  fail — not  from  fear.  Since  she  fell 
dead,  and  I saw  her  face,  1' haven’t  slept,  eaten,  or  rested. 
There  will  be  little  left  for  the  law  to  do,  my  lord.  Let 
it  be  carried  out.  Let  Heaven  judge  who  is  more  to 
blame — the  woman  who  deceived  and  maddened  me,  or  I 
who  struck  her  down  in  the  heat  of  passion  and  wrath. 
Let  the  All-seeing  Power  above  judge.  1 have  done  with 
men!” 

44  Eemove  him!”  said  Lord  Lisle.  44  May  God  have 
mercy  on  him!” 

He  was  led  away,  and  Lord  Lisle  never  saw  the  man 
again.  Before  the  time  for  the  trial  came,  Ealph  Ashton 
died.  From  the  evening  he  gave  himself  up,  he  had  never' 
one  sensible  moment.  He  died  of  brain  fever;  and  even 


186  liORD  LISLE^S  DAtJGMtfEifc. 

those  he  had  most  deeply  sinned  against  were  glad  that  it 
was  so. 

His  confession  of  the  crime  was  published  without  nam- 
ing the  motives  that  led  to  it.  Most  people  believed  him 
to  have  been  mad,  or  to  have  slain  the  unhappy  girl  for 
plunder.  Beyond  the  few  members  of  the  family,  no  one 
ever  heard  the  tragic  love  story  of  Ralph  Ashton. 

Lord  Lisle  sat  for  some  time  in  silence.  He  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  discovery.  No  shadow  of  doubt  rested  on 
his  mind  of  its  truth.  He  remembered  the  picture  of  Lady 
Sybella  Lisle,  and  Daisy’s  perfect  resemblance  to  that  fair 
and  noble  lady.  He  remembered  .a  thousand  trifles, 
“ light  as  air,-’  yet  each  bearing  a strong  confirmation  of 
the  truth  of  the  unhappy  man’s  story. 

A task  lay  before  him — the  news  had  to  be  told  to  Daisy 
and  Mrs.  Wy verne.  He  sent  to  ask  if  he  could  be  re- 
ceived, and  the  answer  was  “ Yes.” 

Lord  Lisle  never  remembered  all  the  details  of  that 
scene.  Daisy’s  tears  and  sobs;  her  mingled  joy  and  sor- 
row; her  grief  for  the  unhappy  girl  who  had  betrayed  her; 
her  unavailing  regret  that  her  father  had  not  known  the 
truth  before  he  died. 

Her  only  comfort  was  that  he  had  loved  her  so  well,  and 
had  died  in  her  arms. 

“ It  was  strange,”  said  Philip,  “ how  Lord  Lisle  loved 
you.  Daisy,  nature  does  speak,  after  all.” 

She  shed  tears  over  the  faded  letters  of  her  mother. 

“I  never  forgot  her,”  she  said.  “I  dreamed  of  her 
continually;  and  the  face  that  bends  over  me  in  my  sleep 
is  the  same  that  hangs  in  my  dear  father’s  room.  1 felt 
there  was  something  strange,  yet  1 never  dreamed  of  this. 
You  must  spare  her,  Lord  Lisle — we  must  bury  her  faults 
in  silence.” 

“Justice  must  be  done  to  you,”  said  Philip,  “and 
speedily,  too.” 

But,  in  her  sweet,  persuasive  way,  she  pleaded  for  pity 


£6M)  LISLE^S  DAUGHTEE.  18? 

and  mercy  for  the  one  who  was  beyond  all  praise  or  blame; 
and  Lord  Lisle  promised  to  spare  her  memory  and  shield 
her  as  far  as  possible. 

Skillful  lawyers  were  engaged;  the  case  was  well  sifted. 
Lord  Lisle,  Daisy,  and  Mrs.  Wy  verne  went  to  Deepdale. 
There  all  legal  doubt  ended.  Many  there  were  who  swore 
that  the  little  child  brought  by  the  strange  lady  to  Susan 
Eivers  was  no  other  than  Daisy.  They  recognized  her. 
Every  shadow  of  doubt  was  cleared  np.  Lord  Lisle’s 
daughter  was  found  at  last. 

A somewhat  garbled  statement  of  the  case  went  abroad, 
telling  that  a mistake,  now  rectified,  had  been  made,  leav- 
ing every  one  who  read  it  quite  undecided  as  to  whether 
the  detective  who  managed  the  business  or  the  late  Lord 
Lisle  was  most  to  blame.  No  one  understood  it  clearly — 
it  was  a nine-days’  wonder,  and  then  died  away,  some  peo- 
ple thinking  it  as  well  that  the  mistake  was  not  discovered 
until  after  the  death  of  her  who  had  been  46  Miss  Lisle.” 

Lord  Lisle,  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  introduced 
Daisy,  even  as  Eita  had  been  introduced  before  her,  to  all 
the  dependents  and  tenants  of  Lisle  Court  as  the  rightful 
daughter  of  their  late  lord.  He  said  a mistake  had  arisen 
over  the  identity  of  the  young  ladies,  both  brought  up 
together,  and  that  circumstances  had  arisen  which  ex- 
plained the  error. 

She  might  have  been  proud  of  the  devotion  and  homage 
offered  to  her,  for  Daisy’s  gentle  rule  had  won  esteem  and 
liking  from  all. 

They  welcomed  their  young  mistress  most  warmly;  but 
Daisy’s  greatest  comfort  was  that  Eita’s  name  had  been 
spared. 

Then,  by  Lord  Lisle’s  advice,  the  two  ladies  went  abroad 
— it  was  better,  he  thought;  the  story  would  die  away;  and 
in  his  own  heart  he  resolved  that,  if  prayers  and  love  could 
win  her,  Daisy  should  return  to  England  as  Lady  Lisle, 


188 


LORD  LISLE$S  DAUGHTER. 


They  went  to  Italy.  Lord  Lisle  joined  a party  of 
friends  who  were  about  “ doing  Egypt  and  the  Pyramids.” 

During  his  absence  the  steward  had  orders  for  great 
alterations  at  Lisle  Court.  That  part  of  the  wood  where 
the  fatal  tragedy  had  taken  place  was  to  be  destroyed,  the 
trees  cut  down,  and  the  ground  cultivated.  The  rooms 
used  by  the  unhappy  girl  were  dismantled  and  left  empty 
— everything  that  had  belonged  to  her  was  given  away. 
The  splendid  portrait,  painted  with  such  exquisite  skill, 
was  placed  in  an  old  lumber-room.  No  one  could  bear 
either  to  look  upon  or  destroy  the  beautiful  dark  face 
glowing  there. 

% ^ ^ % 4:  % ^ 

Three  years  passed  away,  and  the  desire  of  Lord  Lisle’s 
heart  was  gratified.  He  wooed  and  won  the  lovely,  gentle 
girl  he  had  loved  so  long  and  so  well. 

They  returned  to  Lisle  Court,  and  the  whole  country- 
side seemed  aroused  to  welcome  them.  Lady  Lisle  was 
presented  at  Court,  where  her  delicate  beauty  and  grace 
made  her  a great  favorite. 

She  was  loved  and  admired  as  Rita  had  never  been. 
Her  influence  was  that  of  a good  and  noble  woman.  The 
frivolities  of  fashion  did  not  engross  her;  gayely  did  not 
absorb  her  whole  time  and  attention.  Lord  Lisle  never 
knew  his  own  power  and  capabilities  of  doing  good  until 
his  young  wife  taught  him  some  of  the  high  and  holy  les- 
sons she  had  long  learned. 

They  went  once  to  see  Rita’s  grave — a plain  slab  of 
white  marble.  It  told  the  truth,  for  it  said  that  6 6 Mar- 
garet Rivers  ” slept  there. 

Years  afterward  a man,  bearing  upon  his  face  the  marks 
of  long  travel,  came  there.  Captain  Darcy  never  forgot 
the  beautiful,  brilliant  girl  he  had  loved  so  passionately. 
The  cruel  story  of  her  murder  came  to  him  over  the  In- 
dian seas;  and  then  he  heard  that  she  was  not  Lord  Lisle's 


LORD  LISLE'S  DAUGHTER. 


189 


daughter.  It  made  no  difference  to  him.  The  first  spot 
he  visited  in  England  was  Rita's  grave. 

Had  she  been  living,  he  would  gladly  have  laid  th© 
honors  he  had  won  at  her  feet;  every  hope  and  wish,  all 
the  love  of  his  heart,  was  buried  with  her.  Captain  Darcy 
lived  his  life  bravely  and  well,  but  it  had  no  more  of  joy 
or  brightness  for  him. 

* * ❖ * * Jfs 

One  beautiful  evening  in  June  a pretty  little  group  was 
on  the  lawn  of  Lisle  Court.  A lady  with  golden  hair  sat 
at  the  feet  of  Mrs.  Wyverne,  now  grown  old  and  feeble. 
Lord  Lisle  lay  on  the  grass  near  them,  enjoying  at  one 
and  the  same  time  the  flavor  of  a cigar  and  the  gambols 
of  his  children. 

“Daisy,"  said  Lord  Lisle,  turning  to  his  wife,  “that 
eldest  boy  of  yours  is  about  the  greatest  tease  I ever  saw. 
Come  here,  little  Pearl.  What  has  he  done  to  you?" 

A noble  boy,  with  his  father's  laughing  eyes,  brought 
his  sister  by  the  hand. 

44  I have  done  nothing  to  her,  papa,"  he  said.  “ Boys 
do  not  fight  little  girls.  She  cried  because  I threw  a stone 
at  her  doll." 

Lord  Lisle  took  his  young  heir  in  his  arms  and  gave  him 
a lecture  on  the  value  of  kindliness. 

The  child  nestled  in  his  father's  arms  and  listened  pa- 
tiently. 

44  Papa,"  he  cried,  suddenly,  44  I went  with  Jennings  to- 
day into  some  of  those  empty  rooms  in  the  western  wing. 
I saw  the  picture  of  a lady  with  such  a beautiful  face. 
Jennings  said  I must  never  tell  you  I had  seen  it.  Who 
was  she,  papa?" 

At  the  singular,  childish  question,  a shade  of  sorrow  fell 
over  the  fair  face  of  Lady  Lisle.  Her  husband  looked  at 
her,  and  gave  a deep  sigh. 

4 4 It  was  some  one  we  knew  long  since,"  he  said,  gently 
gome  one  who  was  very  unhappy,  and  who  died?" 


190 


LORD  LISLE’S  DAUGHTER. 


Lord  and  Lady  Lisle  never  told  to  their  children  the 
story  of  the  unhappy  girl  who  for  so  short  a time  had 
borne  their  name.  They  never  forgot  her,  even  on  that 
bright  June  evening,  when  the  sun  shone  upon  the  bloom- 
ing flowers,  when,  the  birds  sung  gayly,  and  the  rippling 
wraters  of  the  pretty  fountains  told  of  the  fair  summer, 
when  the  air,  full  of  fragrance,  whispered  of  youth,  love, 
and  happiness — even  then  her  memory  fell  upon  them  like 
the  shadow  of  a passing  cloud. 

Lisle  Court  is  a happy  home  now.  Fair  children  bloom 
there;  Lord  Lisle  is  beloved  and  esteemed  by  all  who  know 
him.  Earth  seems  to  have  lavished  her  most  precious 
treasures,  Heaven  its  choicest  gifts,  upon  Lord  Lisle’s 
daughter. 


THE  END. 


] 


I 


